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Tim loved his binder.
It made him feel at home in his skin when nothing else could and it made looking in the mirror to check himself over after patrol bearable.
It had been quite the revelation, having Bruce and Alfred present him with a new and improved “patrol-safe“ binder on his second birthday with the Waynes after Jason’s return. To know that his identity wasn’t only tolerated in his new home, but supported. To know that he’d never be scorned for who he was, but that his family loved him because of it.
When Jason had told him, late that night, that he’d pitched the idea to Alfred and helped Bruce design it, Tim had lost all previous inhibitions he’d still held up to that point - Jason had attempted to kill him, after all - and crashed into his brother for the tightest hug he’d ever given anyone, save for maybe Bruce and Alfred earlier that evening.
“So… you like it?“ Jason had sounded strangely choked up, like he was holding back some great emotion he didn’t want anyone to see. Tim usually only heard that tone of voice from him when Dick hugged him after a joint patrol with a delighted “Jay, you came!“ on his lips.
Tim had only squeezed harder, his own emotions cutting his voice up like shards of glass: “I love it. Thank you, Jason.“
Looking back, Tim could pretty much pinpoint that as the moment they’d started doing stuff together as brothers, instead of simply awkwardly existing in each others’ spaces.
So yeah, his binder was fucking awesome. Usually.
Less so when he’d been wearing it for what was nearing thirteen hours now, under an already pretty tight dress shirt, while attempting to socialize with stuffy rich people at this godforsaken gala.
When he’d received his “best binder you’ll ever fucking wear, kid“, he’d been told to wear it for a maximum of ten hours; even his family’s combined genius could only do so much and patrol usually didn’t go the entire night anyway. Bruce had been quite strict about this particular instruction, which was sort of justified, given he’d found Tim asleep in his binder at the batcomputer… maybe one too many times.
And it wasn’t like Tim didn’t know about binding safely, he did. It was just… hard, sometimes. To give up the feeling of comfort and confidence he got while wearing it. Like having to peel off a layer of skin, knowing he’d be exposed and vulnerable without it.
So, he knew what the rules were. He just… forgot, sometimes. How much of that was intentional was nobody’s business but his own and he really didn’t care to examine that all too closely, no thank you!
At the moment though, he sort of regretted not taking it off when he’d had the chance earlier. He’d considered it while changing from his school uniform into his fancy gala outfit, but there’d still been one hour left before he hit the ten hour mark and he really hadn’t wanted to take it off before he actually needed to.
And since then there just hadn’t been an opportunity. The gala was full of people in need of some sweet talking, after all, and slipping away during an active conversation would be just beyond rude, his mother’s voice insisted in his head.
Bruce hadn’t actually asked any of them to talk to possible donors. He never had before and he never would, Tim knew, given that Jason, Steph, Damian and Duke hated having to fake interest in people’s bigoted opinions and Cass had had actual panic attacks about talking to people before. Dick was sort of a wildcard in that regard; sometimes he’d be chatting up half the room in a quest to win people over, sometimes he’d make himself really small and hide in some corner from any wandering gazes or touches. Those were the days Jason would leave his own hiding space near the buffet in order to stand subtly, but protectively, in front of their big brother and snarl at anyone who’d dare to even look at them sideways.
Bruce hadn’t asked, but Tim still always felt like he should give it his best shot anyway, even if some of these people made him wanna tear his skin off. His parents had always expected him to be polite and outgoing at these events, no matter how he had felt about it at the time. And even though he knew he’d never be punished by Bruce for something like not wanting to talk to anyone, he still just… wanted to be on the safe side.
So he talked and he smiled serenely and he worked the room like the gala-veteran he was and then, suddenly, it was 11pm and he’d been wearing his binder for twelve hours and fifty-eight minutes and he was starting to sort of feel out of breath.
His chest had been feeling uncomfortable and tight for a while now, but he’d decided the discomfort was still bearable. He’d worked through worse pain during missions before, no problem.
The breathing, though? That was sort of a problem. Especially while trying to talk to people. He’d need to make his exit sooner rather later if he wanted to avoid a… situation.
Making a scene, his mom would have called it.
A slight shudder ran through him and his chest spasmed painfully. His ribs were really starting to hurt, too.
Maybe he should start carrying around painkillers, like Dick always did on family excursions.
“Got your medicine cabinet all packed, grandma?“ Jason would tease before they left, every time like clockwork. And Dick would just grin at him smugly anytime one of them managed to twist their ankle on a hike or sprain their wrist while attempting to race in the shopping carts outside their local supermarket.
Hm, maybe Tim could just try finding Dick in the mess of people. Discreetly taking some ibuprofen would surely take less time than getting to a bathroom and stashing his binder somewhere safe. And then he could just get back into the fray and take it off after the gala had concluded. It couldn’t be that long until one of his siblings decided they’d had enough, right? Tim was pretty sure he’d heard Steph mutter something about “one more hour at most“ half an hour ago and Steph leaving usually meant all of them leaving to get some burgers at a nearby drive-through.
Tim could hold out another half hour with some painkillers, for sure. He’d just go find Dick, say he had a mild headache - better to lie, his family were all a bunch of mother hens - and get on with his night.
A perfect plan, if he did say so himself.
Now, if only the people in his little circle would just stop talking so he could get away for a minute.
And so he could do more than his current pathetic attempt at breathing. He was pretty sure he wasn’t actually getting any oxygen in with how shallow his breaths were at the moment, but allowing himself a deep gasp would definitely be seen as weird by his current company, so he refrained.
He almost did sigh in relief when Mrs. Dennings finally finished her story about her last summer vacation - or a business trip? Tim had sort of been zoned out for half of the conversation - and he could politely excuse himself.
Finding Dick wasn’t that difficult. Him and Cass were standing near the buffet, both eyeing the cupcakes longingly; probably contemplating if taking a sixth one would be overkill, if Tim knew his siblings. Which he did.
Having Cass there wasn’t ideal since she was much harder to lie to than any of the others, but not being able to breathe properly combined with the pressure-pain of his ribs sort of left him with little other choice.
Also, telling Dick he was in pain wasn’t a lie, per se, even if he wasn’t being truthful about the cause, so maybe Cass would’t be able to tell the difference.
Yeah, as if.
He swallowed heavily and stepped into the empty space next to his brother, doing his best to control any tells that might tip Cass off while valiantly not avoiding her gaze at the same time. His smile felt strained, but he persevered.
Fortunately, Dick didn’t seem to notice his struggle as he slung an arm around him; Tim could barely suppress a wince.
“Hey, Timbit, glad you decided to finally join the fun side of the party! We haven’t seen you all evening.“ Tim would never get used to the comforting warmth in his chest that stirred anytime one of his siblings expressed joy at simply having Tim near them. His smile softened into something a bit less forced; affection for his brother and relief at not having to play a role anymore shining through.
Still, he had a job to do, even if he was grateful for the short reprieve.
“Sorry, I’ve been stuck talking to some real chatty donors“ Technically not a lie, even if he’d been the one to initiate most of those conversations. “I’m actually still sort of in the middle of something. I was just gonna ask if you had some painkillers on you?“
Dick’s expression shifted from fond and carefree to concern in less than a second and he let Tim out of his hold, only to grab his shoulders and check him over for any visible injuries.
It made him look absurdly like Bruce.
Tim would usually smile at the comparison, but he really needed Dick to stop, actually.
Before Cass could lean far enough over to feel his forehead - you go to a gala while delirious with fever one time - Tim squirmed out of Dick’s hold and held up his hands placatingly. “I’m fine, promise! I just have a headache and didn’t wanna deal with that on top of some rich assholes.“
Dick and Cass stopped their fussing momentarily to squint at him suspiciously. Cass in particular was giving him an odd look.
“Just a headache?“, she asked after a few seconds of loaded silence. Her voice didn’t give a clue as to if she actually believed his words, but Tim knew his sister. She was definitely considering if she could inconspicuously drag him down to the medbay for a checkup.
Shit! Tim needed to shut down their unwarranted concern real quick before it spread to any of his other siblings. Or worse: Bruce or Alfred.
“I’m okay, really! I probably just haven’t had enough water today, that’s all.“ Also not technically a lie; he’d had maybe half a water bottle during school earlier, but while he thought that was perfectly adequate, he knew his family would think differently.
Dick and Cass still didn’t look entirely convinced. He grabbed Cass’s hand that had been outstretched towards him earlier and put it on his own forehead, smiling reassuringly. “See? Totally fine.“
He’d hoped this undeniable piece of evidence would appease their suspicions, but it seemed he’d miscalculated, because Cass’s eyes narrowed dangerously and she stepped forward until she was almost chest to chest with him.
Before Tim could ask what she was doing, she put her other hand on his chest and… oh, yeah, his breathing still sounded kind of wrong, didn’t it?
Fuck.
Her hand pressed down only the tiniest bit, but Tim couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him at the uncomfortable feeling.
Cass immediately removed her hand, but didn’t step away. Her other hand had moved from his forehead to his cheek and was stroking gently with her thumb. The juxtaposition of the crushing weight on his chest and the featherlight touch of her thumb sort of made Tim want to cry.
“Your breath is shallow“ Cass wasn’t quite whispering, but her tone was soft and soothing. Like when she was holding Steph after a bad patrol or the few times he’d walked in on her calming Damian down in the kitchen in the middle of the night.
It made her sound absurdly like Bruce, too.
Tim did his best not to let the facade crumble, though. The jig was only up if he admitted to it, he’d learned. Keep it up until you absolutely can’t anymore. Maybe even then. “I’m f-“
“You’re shaking, kiddo.“
Dick had appeared at his other side, his hand making gentle circles up and down his back. And, yeah, Tim could sort of recognize that it was bad he hadn’t noticed his giant of a brother moving around him.
He gave a defeated sigh and let himself lean into their familiar touch.
Just a little bit, though. He’d get right back to working the room in a moment, for sure. He just… needed a minute.
His ribs really hurt.
And now that Dick had pointed it out, he could feel how tensely wound his entire body was; every muscle straining and vibrating with tension against his siblings’ steady hands.
His next inhale stuttered.
“Talk to us, Tim“ Cass was looking at him like she did during missions; all clear-cut focus and hard determination to take the necessary actions. But she was also looking like she did when he would refuse to go to bed, hell-bent on finishing a case; all concern and overwhelming care. Tim didn’t understand people who called his sister cold and aloof, she was one of the most expressive people Tim knew. There was an ocean of emotions in her eyes at all times if you just knew how to read the ripples in the water they made.
Dick’s hand was still moving. Up and down, never ceasing in their silent support.
Tim let out another shaky breath. He was exhausted and he was in pain. And he knew his family wouldn’t be disappointed in him if he didn’t continue his facade, didn’t he? They… might even prefer if he didn’t. It was just… a scary risk to take. A huge jump with a dangerous fall.
But… maybe he could trust his siblings to catch him.
The words still felt like they were being dragged out of him, though. “I- I just-“ A gentle squeeze to his hand. A grounding touch on his shoulder. “I’ve had my binder on too long and it-“ He could feel tears gathering in his eyes. “It really hurts.“
His voice broke on the last word. But before the embarrassment of his overflowing emotions could begin to swallow him whole, he’d already been pulled into the most careful, delicate hug of his entire life by two pairs of arms.
Tim could feel the exact moment the remnants of his walls crumpled into rubble. His knees gave way and he was pretty sure Dick and Cass’s hold on him was all that was keeping him upright at the moment.
Somewhere along the way, he’d started crying, too, which was just fucking perfect.
“I’m sorry“ He wasn’t even really sure what for: not keeping track of when to wear his binder? Not being able to take a bit of pain for just a little while longer? Being dramatic and a cry-baby for no goddamn reason? All of the above?
“Hey, it’s okay. You have nothing to apologize for, baby bird“ Dick’s voice was soothing, just like the hand that had found its way into Tim’s hair.
“Crying is always okay“ Cass chimed in quietly from his other side and that did get a tiny, watery laugh out of Tim.
It was a mantra everyone in the family had taken to telling Cass when she’d first joined their ranks. When she had still been afraid of expressing stronger emotions in front of anyone, while at the same time being extremely overwhelmed by her new environment and understandably unsure of herself. So every time one of them would catch her holding herself back, clutching at her own arms for comfort while her eyes were glistening forebodingly, they’d tell her the same thing: crying is always okay.
Her using it on him now just illustrated how far she’d come since she’d started living with them and it made Tim so unbelievably happy he got to be there for her through her journey.
It also really wasn’t helping his little emotional outburst.
Dick seemed to realize this, because he made quick work of getting them away from their position next to the buffet and instead managed to cram them into a little alcove on the edge of the ballroom.
After Tim’s tears had slowed and with one more reassuring squeeze to his shoulder, Dick took a small step away from him to better assess the situation. “Okay, first step: have you taken it off already?“ He could probably guess from the way Tim was breathing, but they’d all been taught over the years to always get direct confirmation if they could.
Tim reluctantly shook his head. He hated taking it off, but he needed it off and his chest hurt so much and breathing was so difficult but he wanted to keep it on so bad and he could almost tell himself that the pressure on his ribs felt good because it was keeping everything in place and he wanted it off but he didn’t and he-
“Okayyy, baby bird, try to take a deep breath for me, yeah? I know that’s hard right now, but just as slow and deep as you can.“
Ah, he was sort of freaking out, wasn’t he?
With a bit of help, he managed a few relatively-deep breaths. They hurt, but he did feel calmer afterwards, so he’d take what he could get.
“Good job“, Cass gave him a small smile and he did his best to return the gesture even through the anxiety and discomfort sitting heavy on his chest.
He looked back up at Dick, who was giving him a sympathetic but determined look. “I know you don’t like it, but we really need that binder off. Now, do you want to do it yourself or do you want help?“
Honestly, usually he’d hate anyone seeing him without the binder on, but the thought of having to take it off himself? Of being the one to take away the feeling of safety and comfort even if everything in him told him to just endure the pain so he wouldn’t have to deal with the alternative?
He didn’t think he could even bring himself to touch his binder right now.
So: “I… I might need some help“ His voice was less steady than he wanted it to be, but not as wobbly as he’d feared.
Dick gave him a smile. “Sure thing, Timmers. Want me or Cass to do it?“
Normally, Tim would be perfectly happy to let his big brother help him with pretty much anything - if he offered first, of course; Tim would avoid having to actually ask for assistance for as long as he possibly could. Today was an outlier - but right now he felt… exposed. And Dick didn’t actually live in the Manor anymore, so he hadn’t seen Tim in just his binder before. Neither had Cass, for that matter, and he really didn’t think he could take any more new ways to be vulnerable tonight.
At Tim’s prolonged silence, Dick stroked his fingers through Tim’s hair once more. “If you want someone else to do it, that’s totally fine, too. Just tell me who to call, baby bird. Anything you need.“
Cass’s arms were still around him and they tightened in confirmation of Dick’s words.
Tim was pretty sure he had no tears left in him to cry, but it was a close thing.
And while he did hate having to bother even more people with this, at the same time, he really wanted this whole thing over with and Dick and Cass hadn’t seemed inconvenienced or annoyed with him so far. So he gave himself a moment to seriously consider who he’d be most comfortable with right now and, after a short while, looked back up at his brother.
“Could… could you text Jason?“ If Dick was surprised by this request, he didn’t let it show on his face. He just kept his hand in Tim’s hair and took out his phone with the other.
While Dick texted their brother, Cass rushed off and returned impressively quickly with a bottle of water and two cupcakes.
She shoved both into his hands, a fierce look in her eyes. “I haven’t seen you eat all evening“, was what she offered up as an explanation and Tim could admit that, yeah, he had sort of forgotten about that in his quest to meet imaginary expectations, hadn’t he?
“Thanks, Cass“, he said and took a bite of the cupcake.
Holy shit, this was absolutely delicious! He now understood his siblings’ yearning glances earlier.
As soon as he’d opened the water bottle, Dick nudged him and held out two little white pills, that he’d procured from god only knew where. Tim swallowed them down gratefully.
After he’d finished his impromptu dinner, it didn’t take long for him to spot Jason’s tell-tale white streak in the crowd of guests. What he hadn’t been expecting, however, was spotting Stephanie trailing along next to him in her floor-length dark blue dress. Thinking of how they’d picked it out together to match his tie just a few days ago made him smile a little, even through the pain and exhaustion.
As soon as the pair saw them hidden away in their little alcove, Steph was on him in a second.
The hug she tugged him into was almost too tight, given how his ribs were protesting, but it also felt good to be held so he didn’t say anything.
“Tim! What is this I hear about you needing an evac?“, Steph exclaimed as soon as she let him go again.
Tim’s head snapped over to Dick. “I need a what now? I’m fine! I can get back to the party after Jason gives me a hand!“
He really didn’t want to come back, he could feel how much his body craved being horizontal after all the physical and emotional turmoil of the last couple hours. But his mind felt frazzled and just the thought of being even more of a bother after all the fuss he’d already caused tonight was enough to make his breathing stutter for reasons completely unrelated to his binder.
Dick did look apologetic, but not like he would back down on this. “But do you want to?“, he echoed Tim’s thoughts from just a second ago, “Because you don’t have to, Tim. No one expects you to just grin and bear everything. Especially not this.“
Right, because his new family cared about the things that made him upset. They cared about what made him feel dysphoric and what could alleviate that feeling. What made him comfortable and how they could help make those things happen as often as possible.
Tim abruptly felt like crying again.
Instead he just let Steph pull him in tighter. At some point, Jason’s hand had found its way into his hair, replacing Dick’s from earlier. His wasn’t as gentle, but it was a welcome pressure and even more grounding for it.
Jason’s tone was soft as anything though: “Let’s get out of here, huh, kid?“
And all Tim could do was nod, let the tears fall anew and let his siblings hold him steady.
It was quickly decided that Dick would find Bruce and tell him they would leave a bit earlier than planned - their dad was luckily very used to this - while Cass went to inform the rest of their siblings.
So that left Jason and Steph to help Tim in one of the more private bathrooms at the venue.
Tim hadn’t wanted to ask more than one other person for help, originally. Jason had helped him with his binder the most over the past few months, so he’d sort of been the obvious choice, but he was just as comfortable around Stephanie. Her presence overrode the usual litany in his head that sounded suspiciously like his mother and insisted that it was „unbecoming to show weakness in front of your peers, Timothy“.
It also helped that she hadn’t let go of his hand so far. He gave it another appreciative squeeze and was rewarded by a beaming smile in return.
“I take my role as your emotional support very seriously, Timbo. Now“, she gave his dress shirt a slight tug, “strip!“
The fact that she and Jason weren’t making a big deal out of this helped a whole lot. Steph helped him tug his shirt off - while still maintaining as much hand-holding contact as possible - while Jason checked the bathroom once more for any prying eyes and ears.
When he got back into their stall with an “all clear“, Tim took a fortifying - but still pretty shallow, fuck, his ribs hurt - breath and turned around. He trusted his siblings with his life, but he still hated this part with his entire soul. Facing away made it easier for him and they knew that.
Jason made it quick: a short warning that he was going to touch him now, then a swift yank and with a little bit of shimmy-ing on Tim’s part, the binder was off and the pressure on his ribs eased.
He took in his first deep breath of the night and put his shirt back on while touching his chest as little as possible.
When he turned back around, Steph was holding her hand out to him again. Sympathy - not pity, never pity - was brimming in her eyes and Tim grabbed her hand maybe a bit too tightly, but she didn’t complain.
“There we go, kid. Better?“, Jason was looking him over critically. Like he could determine if Tim’s ribs were okay by the power of his gaze alone.
Tim took stock of himself: breathing was definitely easier now, but his chest still hurt despite the painkillers he’d taken earlier and he could feel every last scrap of energy leaving his body now that the pain and anxiety weren’t keeping him alert anymore. He sagged a bit against Stephanie, who took the extra weight like it was nothing.
“Tired“, Tim mumbled, his eyes closing of their own volition. It was an easier thing to admit than the conflicting emotions still swirling in his head; a mess of overwhelming relief and feeling bereft and wrong in his body at the same time.
Jason ruffled his hair again, not really helping with Tim’s whole ‘actually, maybe I’ll just sleep on the floor of this bathroom‘ thing right now.
“Let’s get you home“ Tim swore he could hear a smile in Jason’s voice.
Tim didn’t remember much about the way from the bathroom to the car, but they must have gotten there somehow. Between one blink and the next, he was in the backseat, sandwiched between Steph and Damian on either side. Dick was driving with Jason spread out in the passenger seat.
Jason was glancing back at Tim over his shoulder, a question in his narrowed eyes. Tim gave him a tiny, but sincere, smile and nodded his head just slightly. He was sort of out of words at the moment, but Jason nodded back and turned to nag Dick about directions so Tim was pretty sure he’d understood him anyway.
Steph’s head was resting comfortably on his shoulder and he let himself lean on her in return. Tim was also surprised to notice that while Damian was determinedly looking out the window, his hand was curled into the slightly crumpled fabric of Tim’s shirt. Not tugging, just holding on. There, for whatever that was worth to Tim.
It was worth a lot, he decided. He would tell Damian that once he had the words for it again.
Sleep was calling to him, but he couldn’t quite give into it yet without knowing where the others-
“Cass and Duke are taking the other car back to the Manor.“ Dick’s voice was quiet, but so was the rest of the car. “Go to sleep, baby bird. We’ll take care of everything.“
Finally letting himself crash sounded great, actually. He felt Steph taking his hand again.
Tim let his eyes slip closed.