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Tim ducked behind a dumpster, quickly, silently. Just the way his sister taught.
Well.
Cass could melt into the shadows like some dark forgotten god of terror, emerging to whoop-ass and disappear in the same breath. Tim…tried.
He was getting better! He knew that by how the group of Two-Face goons passed right over him in an effort to chase him down. He held down a giggle and peeked out to make sure the coast was clear before he tensed.
He was old enough now that Cass was okay going off on her own from time to time, often to scope out potential shelter and food sources and whatever else she did when he couldn't see her.
She was never gone for long, and always came back with presents. A shiny trinket or toy. A cupcake or sourdough. He knew she stole them directly from the shops, and he also knew she would never get caught. When his sister didn't wish to be seen, she wasn't seen. Tim had gotten good at finding her no matter where she was, though he suspected she made sure he was able to, rather than it being an intrinsic talent of his.
Neither of them knew Cass’s true age, but Tim suspected she was close to him, she simply agreed with him and they moved on. Important things such as that only held importance to the people who could afford them. People whose daily checklist did not include what areas to avoid based on word of mouth or determining whether the new charity that opened down the block was legit or not. (It wasn't. It was a front for a new trafficking ring, the human kind, which meant avoiding 32nd East until the Bats took care of it.)
Tim was 9, small enough to be able to still tuck away in tight corners while also tall enough to reach pockets. Cass was the better pickpocket, so she often ventured away to the better side of the city. Tim was under strict orders to only practice such a skill within her sight, but the guys were right there. Really, it would be stupid to not teach them to hold on tighter to their belongings this side of the city.
He pulled the wallet out of his inner coat pocket and unclipped the fastener, flipping through bills and cards. Five $20’s. He held back a giggle of excitement. No good would come out of an outward celebration. And he didn't want trouble from anyone, especially without Cass here.
He hummed softly and moved the individual bills to separate pockets. Even if his pickpocketed prize was picked in return, they would only end up with one bill. The wallet….he slipped it into a pocket as well. Cass might know what to do with it.
Speaking of.
He pushed up to stand and turned to walk out the opposite side of the alley, dodging a stray cat that slipped around his legs. It was time to meet back up with his sister, or near time. He had no way to tell, save his gut.
He had been on the streets since he was young. He had no recollection of how he got here, nor of his past or parents, but he knew, deep down, he did not want to go back if given the opportunity. He could read, somehow, which spoke of a background he really didn't want to think about. He had been alone for a long time before he met Cass. It has been at least 4 winters since. Seasons were how a lot of the street kids counted. Sure years were probably easier for most, but when spring marks the beginning of crop season which is when most food is thrown out as waste, and winter marks the beginning of “huddle together and find warmth if you like your toes and fingers attached to your body” season, designation becomes important. Years tend to fall in with age, in that sense, Tim muses as he walks down the street. He remembered finding Cass in his usual spot, huddled down and eyes distrustful. It was cold early that year, and Tim was far too chilled to fight her for the meager pile of torn fabric and trash that made up the little nest. They had spent the night curled around each other for warmth, and when morning came? He had somehow found himself with a new sister. He had called her Sister for a while, not knowing her name, not helped by the fact that she was near mute, and it was only when they found themselves in the library one day had she murmured out “Cass.” It was the first thing she had spoken besides “Tim” and that was that. The general rule on the street was to look out for yourself and only yourself unless it benefitted you to look out for others, so their closeness was unusual.
She was scary, his sister. He had watched her take down three older teenagers at once and not break a sweat despite them being far bigger, and far older than her. All because they had pushed him around a bit.
Tim turned a corner and made his way deeper into the Newtown area. The area was undergoing a massive renovation and revitalization period, with many Gothamites moving in for the cheaper rent and more space. Tim and Cass’s current shelter was towards the train station on the other side. A lot of empty crates sat abandoned in the lot, and it was easy pickings to break into the cars when the trains were stationary. Normally, Tim did not venture so far away, having been closer to the Alley only moments prior, but he was bored just waiting around.
It was late evening, based on the sky, which was a darker gray than it would be if it was morning or noon. Tim suspected it might rain tonight. The clouds seemed to merge with the perpetual smog blanketing the city.
He nimbly avoided passersby on the sidewalk and finally, finally, the crowd thinned to nothing as he reached the railroads, swerving around metal containers and old train cars. Their crate was tucked under a stack of crates, open only a crack and overall nothing special at a cursory glance, but it was home. Tim slipped inside, greeted by the pile of blankets and old clothing they had collected and shaped into a nest (not entirely dissimilar to the nest they had met in) pushed to the corner, and a rusty, cracked lamp sat to the side, turned off. The space was small and cramped, and his head was only inches from the ceiling when stood straight. If he stretched his arms out, he could touch the side walls, the front and back walls only a bit farther apart, but the space brought comfort in its familiarity. His body loosened fully, and Tim relaxed.
He had only just settled down when he felt Cass slip inside. He looked up and grinned. “You’ll never believe what I got!” he chirped in leu of greeting.
She smiled curiously and settled down next to him. “Show. Then me.”
His grin only widened with pride as he dug around and produced the bills and wallet procured. She took them from his hands gently and inspected, brows furrowing ever so slightly. “Where? How?”
He blew air into his cheeks, sheepish. “I got bored and went out. And these guys were being all loud and waving around their phones and I think everyone in Gotham heard them!” she tilted her head to the side, listening, and Tim continued, “So I thought, like, why not? Maybe next time they'll be quieter. Also, I think they were goons, so. Win for everyone. Except them. Now they are poor and identityless. Is that even a word? Identityless? Identitylessness? No ID?”
Cass huffed and raised an eyebrow at his rambling. “Not smart. Could have been caught.”
Tim avoided her gaze long enough that she poked him. In the ribs. Cass’s pokes hurt. “It's no big deal! I got away! They passed right by me!”
Her face went blank as she processed his words, eyes turning back towards the offending objects in her small hands. Tim waited for her final judgement. Sometimes Cass got like this, silent and blank. He had learned long ago it meant she was simply thinking through something, not that she was angry or anything.
“Okay. Next time with me.” It was phrased as a statement, but Tim nodded in agreement. That seemed to appease her and he was rewarded with a smile. “Close eyes.” she said suddenly.
Tim did as directed, squeezing his lids shut and felt her hand pull one of his out, palm up. Something soft was placed in his palm, half hanging off his hand with how large it was. He opened his eyes and gasped. Two pairs of thick wool socks rested in his grasp, one for each of them. “Cass! This is awesome!” he cried and launched into her arms.
Socks weren't often available, and nice, thick ones like these? Practically unheard of unless you went into the Upper East Side where all the nice shops were located. Tim’s socks were taken last spring. It was fall now, the chill in the air had all the street kids gearing up for winter early, and his socks had holes to match the ones in his ratty shoes. Cass was in much the same position, so this surprise? Tim was ecstatic.
She laughed, a bell-like sound that was music to Tim’s ears, and tightened her hold. “Surprise.” she whispered against his shoulder.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Tim was awoken via a violent earthquake - wait, no - shaking. Cass’s shaking to be precise. His eyes snapped open. Cass wasn't one to wake him like this, having only done so once before, when they had to quickly escape an old warehouse that was being flooded with gangsters.
Tim sat up quickly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and looking at her questioningly. She put a finger to her lips, and with the other hand gestured to her ear and then to the outside.
Listen.
Tim did. Straining his ears to try and hear what she did. It was still early in the morning, evident by the wet cold air that had Tim’s nose burning and goosebumps erupting over his skin. All was quiet save for the sound of a train horn and…voices.
“I don't give a damn what the boss says, you hear? I ain't gettin’ my ass handed to me by the Bat for this shit. You can come down here and set up the fuckin’ bomb. I am leaving.”
His eyes widened and he turned to face Cass. This was bad. A bomb was bad. A bomb near their little makeshift home? Worst outcome. She broke eye contact, turning back towards the entrance, still crouched in what had to be a very uncomfortable position. Tim followed her example, tuning back into the conversation just outside. The man was likely on the phone given the one-sidedness of it.
“Yeah alright. ‘Least its fucking desolate out here. No one ‘cept for the train. Yeah, I’ll set it up, fuck you.”
The crunching of gravel passed right outside the opening, and Cass shifted in front of Tim, eyes narrow and body coiled like a spring about to snap. Tim held his breath until the sound slowly faded. He turned to look at Cass, waiting. She sat still for a few moments longer, and then turned. “ Leave now.” she hissed. Tim nodded, the money from yesterday sat in Cass’s pocket (she would never be mugged, he knew, it was safest with her), and the socks were on their feet along with their shoes. All that was left to grab was some sweaters from the pile.
This was probably the worst timing Tim could think of. They had planned for this to be their shelter for the winter, which was gearing up to be bad if the persistent chill already in the air had anything to say about it, and besides the wearable clothing, their warm pile would have to be left behind. Tears of frustration threatened to pool in Tim’s eyes as he pulled on a sweater (purple with questionable large stain and small hole on the side) and a hoodie (gray and tattered) over his head. He had found this little crate in the summer and had been so proud. It was perfectly hidden in plain sight and was big enough to hold them both. And now it will probably be blown up soon.
Maybe the most unfortunate thing was the pants. Tim and Cass had a good collection of trashed pants. Jeans, sweatpants, and even the occasional harem pant. You couldn't exactly layer pants the same way you could tops, not to mention finding a pair that actually fit was an achievement worthy of celebration. Tops were easy to find, size didn't matter. Tim and Cass were near the exact same size and could share every article of clothing they collected. Over the last seasons, they had managed to find three different pairs in addition to the two that each of them wore. All of them were jeans, and each had its own pattern of rips and tears, but they belonged to them.
And like every other scrap of fabric in the nest so lovingly put together, so warm and safe, they were likely to be gone soon. None were baggy enough to layer.
Cass had on two sweaters and a thin jacket, all varying shades of faded blue when she took his hand, giving it a squeeze of reassurance and started to lead him out. He gave her a watery smile in return, and made to follow her, but paused. He reached back towards the pile and pulled out a small trinket. A tiny bird keychain. It was no bigger than his palm and was clearly cheap plastic, but it was the first gift Cass had given him, and it was special. He tucked it safely away and continued in the previous movement.
She held his hand tightly the entire way out of the station yard. They snuck around, avoiding the man and his truck that was parked near the entrance, and slipped under a hole in the chain link fence.
The city was quiet this early. It was still dark and cold and no sane person would be out and about until at least 6AM, so Tim imagined it was before that. The stationery gave way to the old brick buildings of the Alley, and they continued to venture further still. A soft breeze curled around his body, and Tim shivered. Goosebumps roughened his skin, and he shifted closer to Cass, who mimicked the movement. The sun had yet to lighten the persistent gray smog, so the shadows ran deep and void-like as they moved silently through the city.
They walked a long time, eyes darting around their surroundings, keeping close to the shadows that warped under lampposts and trees and borne from the twisted bricks of the buildings. Tim’s legs, despite being so used to walking and running all day long, began to tire and ache. One look at his sister, though to the outsider may not be able to tell, told Tim she was much in the same boat.
He gave her hand a squeeze to get her attention. “Tired.” he mouthed when she turned to face him. “Rest?” he tilted his head to accentuate his silent question.
Cass nibbled her lip for a moment, and squeezed his fingers back with a nod. She pulled them off the sidewalk and into a small alcove that likely served as a doorway at one point, as boards were nailed to haphazardly cover the wall behind. The small space was deep enough and had enough porch space that they could tuck into the side, out of sight. Cass sat on the cool concrete of the entryway and pressed her back to the brick, legs bent. Tim, now very much chilled to his bones, plopped down right next to her and tucked into her side, one arm wrapping around her middle with his head resting on her chest. She wrapped both her arms around him in turn, fully encircling the younger boy in her embrace, and rested her head atop his.
Tim knew they couldn't stay here for long. Finding a new hole to live in was priority number one, especially with how close it was to snow season, but he couldn't help it when his lids grew heavy. It must be earlier than he initially thought if he was still tired.
Despite the wet cold air that had his nose frozen and dripping and Tim tasting blood from the dry cold throat, Tim could feel his mind go hazy with sleep. He was uncomfortably aware of the cold concrete under his butt and at his back. The little alcove blocked a majority of the wind, but he still felt his hair rustling in the cold caress of air.
But-
But Cass was so warm around him, and her heartbeat was steady under his ear. And Tim felt himself floating away.
Time went funny - the way it does when you're not quite awake, but not quite asleep. Tim’s head felt fuzzy, and his eyes were shut.
He was so cold.
The warmth was gone, suddenly.
Tim shivered.
He felt like he was encased in ice.
Cass?
He opened his eyes, vision blurry. A shape stood in front of him. A Cass-shaped shape. Tim blinked a couple times to clear his vision.
His sister was in front of him, feet planted, body tense and clearing trying to shield him. Tim furrowed his brows in confusion. What had her so upset. It didn't take long to find out. The giant black figure standing in front of his sister was answer enough.
Tim’s stomach dropped, and his eyes widened.
Batman. That was freaking Batman. Right in front of them.
Crap.
His excitement quickly faded and was replaced with dread. The street kids tended to try and avoid the Bat and for good reason. Rumor had it he grabbed kids right off the street and they were never seen again. Tim was inclined to believe such a rumor, frankly. The dude was scary.
And that scary figure was now in front of him and his sister, blocking their way out.
Trapped.
Tim uncurled from the ball he had drawn himself into, eyes darting around in a vain attempt at finding an opening. It was only then that he tuned into the voices in front of him.
“Go away. Do not want you.” Cass.
A deep rumble, a growl responded. “You shouldn't be out here.”
Batman reached out a hand, to grab or placate it was anyone's guess (certainly not Tim’s, he could barely focus on the man in front of them, mind running a mile a minute creating and discarding escape plans). His heart pounded in his throat, and he gasped when Cass smacked the hand away, hard.
Not a good idea, Cass. Hitting the highly-trained vigilante known for leaving criminals and goons wishing for death.
Tim reached out and touched the back of Cass’s leg. She flinched minutely, and turned her head ever so slightly - pointedly keeping the Bat in her line of vision - to glance at Tim. He shook his head at her. Cass, let's not attack the Bat, self defense or no.
Cass did not seem repentant in the slightest, her hard face turning impossibly tenser.
Tim felt more eyes on him and tore his gaze away from the silent war that was brewing between him and his sister to meet the white lenses.
Tim could feel his pulse fluttering in his throat. He opened his mouth slightly, only to close it just as quickly. What the hell was there to say? Hi there Mr. Batman, we are a-okay please go away? Oh. he rhymed. Cass shifted and Tim looked at her. Her feet were planted, body loose in that way it got right before she sprung.
“What are your names?” that deep rumble again. Tim looked back at the Bat and nibbled the inside of his cheek.
Well.
Nothing to lose, he supposed.
Except their lives.
He had to cough to clear his throat. “Tim.” he whispered hoarsely. He nodded at his sister. “Cass.”
His sister huffed, rolling her eyes. “Away. Now.”
The Bat made a placating gesture, body turned toward Tim, now that he had established he was willing to talk. “Do you have anywhere to sleep tonight, Tim?”
Tim opened his mouth to answer, but Batman cut him off. “Somewhere inside. Not here.” That had Tim shutting up and looking to Cass for support.
What was he supposed to do here? Lie to the Dark Knight’s face? Cass’s body loosened at his desperate look and, with a nasty glare thrown to the looming man in front of them for good measure, slipped back around him, curling her arms protectively across his shoulders. One hand came up to lace into his hair. She shook her head in a negative, and for a moment Tim was confused at what she was denying him of. He was quick to catch up, however. She was answering Batman's question.
“Alright.” he replied evenly. “Are you hungry?”
The Batmobile's seats were heated. That was the only thing Tim could think of as he and Cass curled together on the passenger seat.
It was parked a couple blocks away from the alcove Batman found them in. He had led the two, who were thoroughly wrapped around each other, over to the sleek black vehicle. They walked at his side, and the Bat had lifted an arm to hover around them. Cass had made sure to put Tim between them. At some point, she had deemed the man as not a threat, and that had Tim relaxing. She was good at that - judging character. He had tried to get them to sit in different seats, but had given up quickly at Cass’s glare.
Batman had reached over, slowly, telegraphing his movements, and had pressed a button close to their side on the console, and the seat had immediately warmed. The console had a large screen and what looked like a hundred buttons and other bells and whistles.
Tim’s fingers were finally thawing. It was nice in here, he supposed.
And then Batman put it in Drive.
The car was fast. So fast that Tim and Cass were thrust into the back of the seat. It was a little fun to see the buildings fly by.
And then they soared around a corner and Tim was introduced to the glove box and then the floor. More specifically, his face and nose were introduced into the glove box. Then Cass grabbed him, presumably to catch him and pull him up, and the force had him fully falling off the seat and onto the floor mats.
Huh, what sleek floor mats, black like the rest of the car. Shiny. Something dripped to the ground, dark like the mats. Oh. That was blood.
Cass slid down to the cramped floorspace, and her hand came to his cheeks forcing his face up so she could look with her shocked eyes.
The Batmobile came to a stop, and Batman let out a near silent curse. “Are you alright?”
Tim nodded distractedly, fingers coming up to touch the stream of warm blood that was coming out of his right nostril. His sister's hands were replaced with larger, cooler, gloved ones. Batman's hands were huge, it was kinda ridiculous. Like, as big as his face, kinda huge. His head was tilted up and fingers lightly felt around his nose before a tissue pressed to it. “Nothing broken. Keep your head up and that pressed on your nose.” Batman murmured. Tim nodded, and Cass pulled him back up onto the seat. Batman reached over, and both children tensed, relaxing only when he grabbed the seatbelt and pulled it over them, clicking it in place. Tim's eyes were wide as he followed the movement. “Let's try this with the seatbelt this time.” He settled back in his seat and made to shift back into driving. Without his seatbelt.
“Where's yours?” Tim snarked, nasally.
Oops.
He really shouldn't sass the freaking Batman. Who was driving the freaking car.
Cass poked his ribs admonishingly, but he saw Batman's mouth twitch like he was holding back a smile and he shifted to click his seatbelt in place. He didn't know the Bat could smile. Cool. “You're right. My bad.” He reached around and, making eye contact with Tim all the while, clicked his seatbelt in place.
Surprisingly, Tim wasn't intimidated, it felt…playful.
They were off again. The car was silent, but it was a comfortable sort. Tim held the tissue to his nose and Cass held Tim, running her fingers through his hair. This time, there were no interruptions and they zipped through the city. Tim watched the Bat the entire ride, studying.
Eventually, the hum of the engine stilled and they pulled to a stop. The windows were so tinted, the area so dark, neither Tim or Cass could see where they were. That alone had nerves tightening Tim’s stomach further. Or maybe that was the hunger.
Their last meal had been yesterday morning. It was big enough that they hadn't needed lunch, and by the time dinner rolled around, they were already curled together in sleep. It had been too cold to go out anyway.
Batman exited quickly, and came over to open the passenger side door. He offered a hand to Cass, who had reached over to unbuckle their shared seat belt. She took it and gingerly slipped out of the car, quickly turning back to Tim, who was offered the same hand down. Tim grabbed for Cass’s hand as they walked though.
“This is the BatCave.” Batman said, leading them through the cavern.
It was incredible. Stalactites hung sharp and menacing from the roof, and bats twittered as they flew this way and that. A massive, expensive looking computer sat in the back and various doors were lit up around the cave. Tim wanted to open them, to see what was inside, behind the metal doors.
He led them off to the side to an area that seemed out of place. Two soft brown couches sat facing one another, and were worn-in, clearly well used and loved. Blankets were thrown haphazardly over their backs and a rusty colored lay between them. Warm, in comparison to the cold, sleek cave.
Batman had them sit on one of the couches, and once they were settled, he set a hand on each of their shoulders. “I’ll be right back, alright? Stay here, I won't be a moment.” He waited for them to nod and then turned to disappear behind one of the doors.
Tim was more than happy to go back to exploring the sights of the cave, Cass following suit.
The only reason Tim did not jump straight out of his skin was Cass’s hand anchoring his soul to his body. The man appeared out of freaking nowhere, standing straight and tall and looking at them with a kind, if not a tad surprised, smile. He was the embodiment of put together, gray hair combed back and suit pressed and smooth. Not a hair out place. It was unnerving to Tim, who could feel the grease in his hair that had it sticking together in clumps, the dirt that clung to his skin like makeup. Made him feel small, all of a sudden. Strange really. He had nothing to prove to the man, he didn't even know him, but Tim couldn't help but feel lacking in his torn, layered clothes.
“Hello there, young master, mistress. My name is Alfred Pennyworth, and it is wonderful to meet you. I am the butler of this house” Tim offered him a tentative, shy smile. Cass did the same, having deemed him safe and genuine. “Why don't you follow me and get cleaned up upstairs, hm? Perhaps some food, as well?”
Tim and Cass, in sync, looked to the door Batman disappeared behind, hesitant. Just because he was not a threat, did not mean they trusted him yet. Alfred chuckled, and nodded in understanding. “Batman called for me, I assure you, but if it makes you feel better to wait for him, I understand. Can I bring you something to eat, perhaps? Or to drink?”
Tim turned his head slightly, meeting Cass’s eyes questioningly. A quick, silent conversation passed between them and Tim turned back to Alfred, who waited patiently, his face kind and open. “Water. Please.” he stumbled to add on the polite expression, not wishing to seem ungrateful. Something like relief passed over Alfred’s eyes, before he nodded and left, leaving them with a promise to return quickly.
Tim melted into the back of the couch and shut his eyes, his hand still secured by Cass’s iron grip. Her gaze, no longer having a stranger to lock on to, was on the door. After a moment, she gave his hand two squeezes, a warning.
Not a second later, the handle turned, and the door opened. Batman stepped out, but he was no longer…Batman. His suit and cowl were gone, exposing his face, and Tim felt his world tilt ever so slightly.
Everyone in Gotham, from the rats to the richest of high society, knew Bruce Wayne. He was the Prince of Gotham, one of the richest people in the world, and known for his charity. For the boys he took in who became the heirs to his fortune.
Who were both Robin. Holy crap.
Well.
More likely, Dick Grayson was the first Robin. It made sense considering how acrobatic the young vigilante had been. The person behind the mask had changed recently, about two years ago. That must mean that Jason Todd was the current Robin.
Tim hadn't ever really given it much thought before. The Bat and Bird were something to be aware of, to note their locations and thus where to avoid. When one had to focus on where to find their next meal, where to sleep, where cops liked to hang, which cops to avoid (all of them), etc. etc., the identities of Gotham’s resident crimefighters was low on the priority list. Practically nonexistent, in fact.
Bruce Wayne gave them a soft smile, meant to sooth no doubt. “Did Alfred stop by? I asked him to.”
Tim nodded. “He asked us to come clean up. Bring us water now.”
“Why don't we head upstairs then? To the kitchen, maybe? There's a fireplace and blankets in the living room too.” Mr. Wayne looked between them, lingering on Cass, who nodded and led Tim along with her.
They made their way upstairs, stopping in the kitchen to accept glasses of water. Tim downed his quickly, and found it refilled immediately. The water was so clean and cool, nothing like collected rainwater or stolen water bottles that he and Cass relied on. He and Cass had been on their 4th and 5th glass respectively, when voices echoed down the hall, slowly getting louder, closer.
Cass tensed, slipping off her stool at the counter and pulling Tim down with her behind the island, effectively blocking them from anyone coming into the kitchen. Tim clutched his glass, looking from his sister to Alfred, who gave them a reassuring smile. Bruce wasn't visible, as he was in front of the island, but he let out a sigh.
“Oh, come on, please? I promise I won't embarrass you, Little Wing!” Voice One whined.
“No. Absolutely, not. I know exactly what you’ll do when we get there, and I would rather face off with Condiment King.” Voice Two was exasperated. “Yo, B, back me up here. Dick cannot drop me off. Hell no.”
“Language, Jaylad. Boys, there something I want to tell-”
“What?! No, you can't get B on your side! That is so not fair! If you get B, I get Alfie!” Footsteps pounded against the tiled floor, and Cass pushed Tim behind her as she crouched down into a familiar position. “Alfie back me up he- oh my god!” ‘Dick’ shrieked at the sight of them, jumping back into the counter behind him.
Cass pushed Tim somehow deeper against the wood, and eyes locked onto the man in a mean glare.
“As I was saying,” Bruce sighed again, “This is Tim and Cass. They’ll be staying with us for a while.”
“Oh shit, B, you found more?” Another face popped around the corner, eyes wide, and Tim flinched in surprise.
“Master Dick, Master Jason, please keep your voices down.” Alfred’s voice was even, but it held an edge to it that Tim only picked up on after years of having to pay attention to such things. A warning edge, one that promised something should it be disregarded. “Our new guests are rightfully anxious enough already. Master Jason, their situation is much similar to yours.”
“Street kids?” This time Jason’s voice was quieter, more reserved - likely for their benefit, though it only had Cass stiffening in distrust. Tim suspected she might be feeding off of his own nerves. His movements were slow, telegraphed, as he turned to look at Bruce, grinning. “Wow, B, replacing me already?”
Wow, Bruce was sighing a lot tonight, “They were together under a stoop. I did not want to leave them out in the cold.”
Tim sipped his water, staring at Jason. “Are you Robin?” Cass turned her head slightly to glance at him, confused. Not shit this was Robin, what are you doing, Little Brother? Yea, he was a little too good at reading his big sisters expression
Jason froze and looked back, “Uh. Yea? How’d ya figure, kid?”
Tim slipped out from behind Cass, peering over the island to look at Bruce. He pointed a single finger. “Batman.” He shifted the finger to Dick, “First Robin, now Nightwing.” He turned to look back at Jason. “Not hard to figure out.”
Dick snorted, “Oh, I like you.”
“Would the young Master and Miss like to head upstairs to get cleaned up?”
Tim glanced down at Cass and they nodded in sync.
The water was warm, something Tim couldn't quite get over. Washing wasn't a priority on the streets, so it took two drained tubs for the water to run clear. They washed his hair with a detached showerhead, and had to use the shampoo three times to scrub away the built up dirt and grease. They had argued over the clothes, Tim refused to let them throw them away - they were his, they couldn't get rid of them. Jason had stepped in and backed him up, so the clothes were washed and folded in the corner of the room they were given, and Tim was given sweat pants and a hoodie, both a size too big. According to Jason, they were his when he first came here. And wasn't that a shock - to learn that the child who had come across Batman and disappeared forever, who every one thought was dead or worse, became freaking Robin.
Tim’s little keychain sat atop the pile.
After the baths they made their way to the living room, and Tim was happy to curl up with his sister under a blanket. They were given a plate of meats, cheeses, crackers, and grapes, which he and Cass had demolished. Alfred had promised more later on, so they didn't get stomach aches. Dick and Jason sat on the couch across, and Bruce was in a leather armchair. The promised fireplace roared with flame, heating the room.
Cass’s hair smelled good, like vanilla and it was soft like his was now. It was still strange, to feel as clean as he did. A movie was playing on the massive television above the mantle. An animated one, something about a young witch who moves to a town by the sea. Tim was fighting to keep his eyes open. He was losing.
Honestly, he wasn't fighting too hard. Cass was already asleep curled around him, her body was loose, breathing steady, and if she was comfortable enough to sleep, he trusted her enough to relax. He gave a quick glance at the others, who were all watching the movie or reading, and allowed himself to close his eyes.
Bruce flicked his gaze over at the two kids he brought home on a whim. They were knocked out cold and he allowed himself to smile. They were so small - smaller than even Jason was, though he suspected they were younger than his youngest was when he caught him attempting to rob the Batman blind. The girl, Cass, was so fiercely protective over the boy, Tim. And Tim was more than happy to follow her direction, though his eyes seemed to take apart his subject piece by piece. And then when Tim called out their identities so deadpan, the shock in his boy’s eyes, Bruce knew he was a goner. That he was going to end up with two new kids.
Bruce couldn't find it in himself to be upset at that fact.