Archive of Our Own

Tim Drake is very similar to his mother.

This is a fact he knew.

Why? Because he has heard it time and time again. He has her face, her gait, her likeness. He's heard it all.

A fact he did not know was that Janet Drake and Talia Al Ghul shared a likeness.

This is something he learns a year after Damian comes to live at Wayne Manor.

Damian has now been living in Wayne Manor for the last two years.

These three facts are important.

As do all problems start with in the Wayne brood, it starts with patrol. Red Robin and Red Hood were working on a drug bust in the financial district while Nightwing and Robin were doing a joint patrol across Gotham Proper.

The night had been fairly calm. The bust was going well and patrol had been mostly normal. Until Robin stumbled upon something.

Nightwing and Robin caught tail wind of some commotion at the abandoned hospital in Lower Gotham Proper so they had decided to investigate.

Nightwing peeked in through the window before silently opening and slipping in with Robin close behind.

"Stay close," Nightwing ordered.

"Tt."

Nightwing rolled his eyes under the mask and crept out the hospital room into the hallway. The hallway was decorated with peeling, faded posters of various cartoon animals.

So the pediatric ward, Nightwing surmised.

Down the hall was an elevator and with it the emergency stairs wells. The air was thick with dust and stale. This place was obviously undisturbed—

A bang echoed from the stairs.

Nightwing looked to Robin beside him. The silent order already being followed as Robin crept toward the stair well.

Guess this place isn't completely undisturbed, Nightwing thought, maybe if we're lucky it's just some squatters and some goons fighting over their claim to this dump.

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It takes 5 minutes for things to go to shit.

It ends with Nightwing racing back to the cave with a barely coherent Robin.

It turns out they weren't lucky tonight. Some goons had gotten their hands on some left over fear gas from Scarecrow's breakout last Halloween and were planning on using it on their rivals. But when Robin had jumped in, disobeying Nightwing, he had created a frenzy.

Guns were blazing and shouts filled the hospital lobby.

Amidst the chaos, Nightwing had gotten nicked by a bullet and was trying the contain the mess. It's not like he isn't used to the chaos but he was sure Robin and him were past that rebellious stage.

I guess not, Nightwing sighed. He'll have to talk to him later.

But there wasn't a later.

Because as Robin had been cutting down the goons, he cornered one, planning to subdue him like the rest, he advanced. And the coward stumbled back. Tripping over his own feet.

The goon fell, knocking over one of the canisters of fear gas. It opened spraying it's contents all over Robin.

With Robin now distracted, the goon made a break for the emergency exits.

Robin was disorientated. He remembered touching the ground but his mind felt muddled. He heard a shout. And then he felt arms around him, picking him up. He resisted. He didn't know who they were.

What if they were with Grandfather. What if they were here to take him back.

Why was he thinking about Grandfather now?

He didn't want to go back. He liked it with Father. Was Father not satisfied with his performance? Had he sent him back? Had his father disowned him? Left him there to rot with Grandfather. No no no no no no nonnononononononono no.

That can't happen. No he won't allow it. He won't have another parent send him away.

So he fought back. But the arms had his own pinned against his body. He could feel his breathing picking up. He has never felt this scared in so long.

He thought he was past that, so much stronger than that. He hated this feeling—this weakness.

Didn't father promise him that he wouldn't be scared anymore? He couldn't breath right now. He was inhaling but the air wasn't entering his lungs.

The was air rushing around his face. It was dark.

Oh.

His eyes were closed.

God, you're so stupid.

No he wasn't…?

No. Mother said he was strong and smart. And she never lied to him about things like that. So it must be true. He can be strong. He can fight this overwhelming fear tightening in his chest.

He opened his eyes.

That made it entirely worse. He could see now. He could see the shadows following him.

They were going to take him.

He struggled but those arms just held him down. He thrashed and tried and tried but his limbs felt so heavy and his mind so muddled.

He was hearing things. He was sure. Because he was hearing their screams. All those people Grandfather used as lessons. Lessons about torture and lessons about punishment. He could hear them. But he wasn't with the League. He wasn't with Grandfather. He was home.

But was he safe?

I will come for you, my heir. And you will be molded into my image. I will make you great again. Not the weak minded thing your father has created.

No!

He won't. He won't. He won't. He won't. He won't. He won't. He won't. He won't. He won't.He won't. He won't. He won't. He won't. He won't.He won't. He won't. He won't—

He won't go back there. Grandfather won't take him. Mother said so.

Mother also said you were strong.

But I am! He screamed.

She lied.

Mother doesn't lie.

Maybe not to capable sons able to uphold her legacy. But you? She lied. Because you are weak.

She wouldn't. She believed in him. She loved him.

Robin opened the eyes he was sure that were just open.

Talia Al Ghul stood in front of Damian Wayne.

My greatest failure, she whispered.

The weak link in my legacy, she hissed, her nails —no claws reaching for him. To tear, to punish.

He shut his eyes as if that could protect him from the voices as the hissed truth after truth.

He was weak. A bad son. A bad brother. A bad Robin.

Father is going to leave him. Grayson is going to leave him. Drake is going to leave him. Todd and Cain will leave him and so will Brown and Thomas and Pennyworth.

Because they know.

They know that he is weak.

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.

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Here is another fact. Robin has never been exposed to fear gas before.

Nightwing alerted comms what had happened and carried a fighting and delirious Robin on his bike. He needed to be fast. Dami—Robin needed the anti toxin. It hurt to see his face twisted with fear, an emotion not seen often on the younger.

"It's Ok Robin," he whispered, "You're safe. I've got you."

The words did nothing to comfort him and if it did Robin did not show it. He just needed to get him back to the cave. To get him better. To make him feel safe.

Nightwing kept that mantra repeating in his head. He just needed to get back to the cave. To get him better. To make him feel safe.

He arrived at the cave in record time and lifted a shivering Robin over to the med bay which Alfred had been preparing since he spoke to Oracle.

Wait let's rephrase this. Nightwing tried to carry a shivering Robin over to the med bay. But he was resisting. He was fighting. Much more than he was before. Maybe being in the Bat Cave triggered something but Robin twisted out of his grip and was now looking at him with a wild look in his eyes and his sword brandished.

But he could handle this. He just needed to get Robin Damian to Alfred for the anti toxin that he had been preparing. Everything would be fine.

But then Batman choose this exact moment to arrive.

Damian tensed further, he was backing up now going onto the defense. Something he rarely did. Batman eyes narrowed as he analyzed Robin.

Nightwing didn't know what to say but what left his mouth was reassurances that he was safe. He was sure that Damian didn't need Batman analyzing him right now. He just needed to get to Damian but ever step forward was meet with two back from the younger.

He could corner him into the med bay if he continues to resist but he really didn't want it to come to that. He wanted to hold onto Damian and assure him that all those nasty fears weren't true and that his brother was right here.

But there was no telling on what he was seeing, who he was actually seeing.

Damian's lip curled into a snarl, "You lie."

He was obviously trying to sound intimidating but his voice trembled and his snarl looked less like his usual snarl but like he was holding back tears. He sounded so…young. It made something in Nightwing ache.

"You all lie. You're going to—going to..," he trailed off eyes now focusing on an approaching Batman.

Damian swung his sword in an arc to stop him from advancing.

"Stop, B you're scaring him."

"Robin, I will not harm you, whatever you're seeing right now isn't real. We can help you," Batman said his hands up to placate him.

"Don't come near me!" he screamed.

His voice had cracked in the middle. His eyes darted between the two and took another step back.

He was really scared right. So frightened he didn't even know what to do, all he wanted to do was cry. But he couldn't.

No. Mother said he had to be strong. And he could prove to her that he was strong.

Because he was. Really, he was.

But Batman kept coming closer and looming over him. It had always been amusing to see Batman become part of the shadows and scare criminals. When it being used on him, it wasn't so funny anymore. Especially when he could see them in the shadows, waiting for him to slip up and drag him back.

He doesn't want to go back. It's obviously a trap set up by Grandfather, to see him run to embrace Batman then cruelly rip him away and back to reality.

So he sung his sword to keep him back. He wasn't going to fall for this trap, because if he did then Grandfather would punish him. So neither Batman nor Nightwing must come near him. He needed to get out of here. This place is his home is compromised. He isn't safe.

He took another few steps back. His eyes darted around him. The med bay was behind him with Pennyworth in it. It wasn't good to have enemies behind you. The stairs to the manor were to his right. It would be a simple sprint. He could make it. A sudden movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He jumped at attention, his hands tightening around his sword.

Batman pushed back down the cowl to reveal something even scarier. His father.

"Chum, please we want to help you. You need the anti toxin," his father said.

"NO, you lie. You're with him! You're going to send me away!"

"Who?"

Robin breath caught before uttering, "Grandfather."

"No, Damian I swear he isn't here," Nightwing promised.

Robin's face underwent a spasm before it hardened.

"Lair!"

Pennyworth was behind him, Nightwing and Bat—Father in front of him. He was caged.

"Ra's is not here and he—"

"I know his tricks," he hissed. He knew what they were planning.

He couldn't trust them. He couldn't trust anyone.

Nightwing shared a look with Batman—no Dick shared a look with Bruce. They weren't going to be able to calm down Damian enough to get him to willingly take the anti toxin. He wouldn't let them get within 6 feet, he doubt that he'd let any of them near with a needle, a potential weapon.

His paranoia was both familiar and warranted.

They had to corner him and probably strap him down. He really hadn't wanted it to come to this.

Dick approached from the right and Bruce the left, Damian immediately tensed—well tensed up even further.

They just needed to be quick. Damian was drugged and disorientated. He was unstable. That of course made an unknown variable. They didn't know how he would react once the full effects of the fear gas set in which would be anywhere between 20 to 40 minutes of inhaling a dose and it had taken Dick 16 minutes to get to the cave, so it would be in everyone's best interest if he just got the anti toxi—

"Back off, B you're cornering the kid."

"Back off, B you're cornering the kid."

That wasn't Nightwing or Pennyworth. Nor Batman.

Another motorcycle revved as it pulled into the cave. It was…it was…salvation.

Red hood and Red Robin had been finishing up their drug bust when Oracle had let them know.

Red Hood kicked one of the guys laying prone on the floor in the head, knocking out a couple teeth and earning a broken nose.

Red Robin gave him an unimpressed look.

"What? I was just making sure he was out. Besides he knew better than to try and sell in my territory," Hood shrugged.

Red Robin huffed before turning back to tying up some goons up. It was the last ones so he alerted the police before grappling up to the rafters and onto the roof of the building one down.

The comm crackled before Oracle's voice came through.

"Nightwing's heading back to the cave with Robin. Robin's been compromised, fear gas."

Red Hood sucked in a breath while Red Robin stilled. Red Robin took the lead and responded.

"Kay, we'll head back to the cave. We're done here."

Oracle let out a sound of recognition before she closed out the comm link.

"Yikes, the kid must be going through it," Red Hood said as he followed Red Robin to where they stashed their bikes, "Isn't this his first time getting dosed."

"Yeah. I don't even know why or how he would have come into contact in with fear gas. Scarecrow hasn't been out in almost a year."

"Maybe some old canisters, " he suggested.

"Most likely."

"You know, you sound awfully worried for the demon brat."

"Of course I am. We all know what it's like to get hit for the first time by fear gas, " Red Robin huffed as he mounted his bike.

"No, no I know, It's just I didn't know you cared for the brat that much."

Red Robin rolled his eyes in response, "He grew on me a little. Like mold."

Hood laughed,"So what, you want to go check in on the kid while Dickhead calms him down."

"Something like that."

"Yeah just don't get too much in his way. He might go all blood son on you."

"He won't."

And with that Red Robin took off with Hood close behind. Red Robin needed to stop by the nest and get something so he told Hood to go ahead and he won't take long.

Hood continued racing down Gotham's unforgiving roads. In all honesty, he was a little worried about the kid too. Everyone in all of Gotham knew your first time getting gassed was the worst because at least by the second time (if you were that unfortunate to get gassed a second time) you knew what to expect.

So sue him, he was a tiny bit worried.

But he was sure once he see the kid laid up being fretted over by Dickhead and Alfred his nerves would calm down. That's what he kept telling himself. That the brat was probably already being treated like a little prince. So color him a wee bit fucking surprised when he pulls into the cave to see the kid up in arms, looking like a light breeze would knock him over while the old man and Dickface corner him.

Seeing the kid, even if he was a brat, looking so pitiful made something flare up in his chest.

"Back off, B you're cornering the kid."

He was about to shove the old man out of the way before Red Robin's arrival took all the attention of the room.

And let it be said that whatever took place that night left Jason thoroughly thrown out the loop because what the fuck was that shit show?

To be honest Jason couldn't be sure what he saw, maybe it was just some mass hallucination between B, Dickwad and him but here's what happened:

The kid had stilled completely to the sound to the sound of the motorcycle's engine. His grip on his sword surprisingly had gotten lax, a stark contrast from his earlier death grip. His eyes followed every twitch Red Robin made as he dismounted his bike. Red had something in his hand but had tucked it into his utility belt before Jason could decipher what it was exactly.

Now standing in the cave Red's eyes surveyed the room before stopping on Robin. And for Robin, his breath hitched. It stuttered and stopped like he was afraid of ruining the movement. The sword in his hand was nearly out of his hand on the ground.

Dickwad's mouth opened to say something, probably to deescalate the situation because he was sure everyone was just on edge as he was. Jason hadn't a clue what was going to go down.His bets were that the kid saw Red as some vicious monster and was at a lost for words, probably planning on jumping him and attacking while Red was trying to stay still to not terrify the kid any further. The last thing he needed was more people crowding him. He scowled at the fact that Dickface and the old man still hadn't backed off.

But then something happened that Jason still couldn't make sense of. Red—no he was Tim right now, opened his arms as an invitation for a hug. For the demon brat. And he would have scoffed, telling Tim that the little brat thinks himself too high and mighty to even think about accepting a hug from the 'strays' as he put it, that his father graciously welcomed into his home.

But.

He didn't have time to scoff as the little demon's lip had trembled and his sword finally fell out of his grasp and in a move not one of them was expecting, he shot forward to Tim, right into his arms. He was so fast Dickwad didn't even have the mind to grab the kid because of he was being totally honest right now he was sure the kid was going to maul Tim. But if anything he looked right at home in Tim's arms hell he looked like he didn't want to ever let go because God, did that kid grip onto him.

His arms were wrapped around Tim's torso with his face buried into Tim's stomach. Tim seemingly at ease with this development let his arms circle around the little tyke.

And then came the sobs. It was like a dam had burst.

His frame shook with sobs one would never imagine 'the blood son' would ever make, as he labeled such emotions below him. It was so pitiful, Jason was sure if he looked back at the daddybats his face would be all twisted in a mixture of sorrow and grief and Dickface would probably look near tears.

Tim's hands began to rub circles onto Damian's back, like he'd done it times before. The crying—oh God the crying, even it muffled from Tim's kevlar suit sounded so heartbreaking and so heavy, that Jason couldn't help but wonder how long had those been building up inside. It made no sense for such a tiny person to make such despairing noises, especially this little person.

What continued is what kept surprising him. Tim's hands found Damian's arms tightly gripping his suit—not completely unlike how he had originally been gripping his sword and carefully removed them but he did not let go of the smaller boy's hands—no he held them like they were the most fragile things on this earth.

By unsticking the hands from him, he unstuck the kid whose cries had lessened but not petered out. His breath still hitched, his face all blotchy, snot and big fat tears ran down to his chin. It was an image that wouldn't compute in Jason's brain. He had never seen the kid this distressed. It was like someone had taken a knife a twisted it in his chest. He heard an intake of breath behind him, likely Dickwad.

Timmy knelt down to eye level to Damian, still holding Damian's hands in his own. He lifted one of his hands to the kid's face to wipe away the tears that had slipped from under his mask. Tim's face which had been carefully neutral broke into a little frown, he spoke which echoed around the cave. Something about the mask remover and Jason could hear someone behind him scrambling to get it. They were probably making all that noise so Damian wouldn't be all that spooked when they came close to hand Tim the remover.

Jason was expecting the kid to tense right back up once Dickhead started approaching but surprisingly he remained completely relaxed in Tim's arms. He didn't even look at him, his eyes remained focused on Tim's face which had fallen back blank.

Carefully, like how he held his hands—was still holding a hand, Timmy removed the mask from Damian's face and what was under there wasn't any better. His eyes were red rimmed and still leaking silent tears and held a look of complete sorrow. (How could this prideful child have the audacity to look so agonized—no he needed that fire back in eyes that Jason had come to associate with him, not this defeat) Tim in turn removed his mask. So now both of his brothers(?) stood blank face to blank face.

Timbo deciding to forgo his current controlled expressions, offered a small smile to Damian that would have usually been reward with a roll of his eyes or a more harsher dismissal but instead Damian throws his arms around Tim's shoulders. Tim's hands began rubbing circles on Damian's back and even more surprisingly Damian began to talk.

Well if you could call what he was blabbering about talking. He wasn't even sure it was a language. He caught snippets of what he could make out from the gibberish muted from Damian's face smothered into Tim's shoulder, but Timbo was nodding and letting out little hums of recognition like he could understand what he was saying.

Maybe he could because it had become glaringly clear that Jason knew nothing about whatever was the dynamic between Timbo and the kid.

From what Jason could piece together from the broken sentences, Damian was spouting about missing something—needing something or was it someone?

He couldn't really make sense of it.

But Tim heard it. And he understood. And that's all what mattered at the moment.

And despite the fact a pin drop could be heard in the cave right now because their shock had stunned them into silence, Jason couldn't hear what Tim was whispering to Damian. It seemed to have worked in reassuring him because Damian's gibberish had stopped the moment Tim replied and he buried his head deeper into the nock in his shoulders. His shoulders were still shaking, not the work of sobs but of the fear toxin in his system.

He really needed that anti toxin.

Timmy seemingly to have read his mind stood up with Damian in his arms, his little face remaining buried into his shoulder. Not a twitch or movement to betray that Damian was uncomfortable in fact it looked like he was relaxing even more which was a stark contrast from the boy who wouldn't even let Dickwad pick him up—too childish he would say.

And with his arms full of Damian walked over to med bay, he didn't even spare a glance for when he passed the old man or Dickhead. But the kid did. He lifted his head for a moment to look at them as he passed and Jesus, did it ever stop hurting seeing that little face all scrunched up in fear, eyebrows drawn and eyes dull.

Curse his bleeding heart. He always did have a problem with it. Caused him more harm than good most days.

And as quickly as he looked he dug his head back into that shoulder. And from his angle he could see Timbo putting a slightly reluctant Damian down on a cot. He was turning toward to Alfred, likely to ask about the anti toxin but was stopped when Damian's shot out and gripped his wrist. His eyes were pleading and mouth drawn into a desperate frown.

Tim stopped in his pursuit and turned his complete attention to Damian, he knelt down again in front of him and said…something. Jason couldn't hear but it resulted in Tim climbing into the cot with Damian and—and Damian laid his head in his lap. Which again was something the kid wouldn't even indulge in with Dickwad.

His head was buried in Tim's stomach and his arms were pulled close to his body but one hand still held steadfast onto Tim's suit. Tim's hands were raised above Damian not touching him unlike how his hands had been continuously giving soothing touches all this time.

He was removing his gauntlets, Jason realized. His newly freed fingers found themselves running through Damian's hair.

It was a sight that didn't make sense. The kid, head in Timmy's lap while Tim ran a comforting hand through his hair with a look on his face that Jason couldn't decipher.

It felt like he was in the phantom zone. Ok, maybe he was being a bit dramatic but this was not normal. As he watched on he was left even more perplexed.

Tim had leaned down and began whispering something in Damian's ear. The kid didn't move save for twitch in his fingers and despite it all he looked relatively calm for someone on fear toxin.

Jason could see out of the corner of his eye that the old man was gearing up to say something, Jason was moving before he realized and in a rare show of affection placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head to keep quiet. He kept his hand there.

Tim had this handled and he didn't need this cluster fuck of a family mess up all his work.

Alfie who had been in the med bay had retreated to a corner, making him barely visible from Jason's angle. He could appreciate it, those two needed there space but time was of the essence and he could see that Dickhead was getting antsy—or more antsy than he usually was, but he returned his attention to the two.

Timbo was now working on taking off of Damian's gauntlets. Once off he took one of his arms and pushed up the sleeve and reached over to the table beside and grabbed the skin disinfectant.

Tim looked up to Alfie, a silent order in his eyes. With that he removed himself from the corner and got the anti-toxin that had been prepared.

All of the Bats and Birds had medic training, but usually in the cave they let Alfred fuss over them. Jason liked to think it helped quell his worry.

But right now, Alfie handed over the syringe to Timmy. Jason realized just out of their element everyone was. Alfie's face was as impassive as always but his hands were tense and his mouth was pulled into a thin line of worry. Sparing a quick glance to Dickwad and the old man, showed that Dickhead looked ready to fly over there in a moments notice. His face, as expressive as always was drawn in worry. B on the other hand was completely blank but his eyes were analytical of the scene in front of them.

Damian had tensed greatly as the needle punctured his skin almost as tense as he was when he entered the cave but once injected the kid's body was like a puppet who had its strings cut, completely limp. Tim who looked like he expected this returned to petting the kid like an oversized kitten.

They stayed like that for a while. How long? Jason didn't know he wasn't counting but what he did know was that Alfie shot them all a look once he deemed that they'd enjoyed the show long enough.

He even left the med bay and closed the door behind, citing that Master Tim had this handled before rushing upstairs, probably to clean up the brat's room and make some tea.

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.

.

And that's where Jason is right now, terribly confused and curious while everyone else were—well in the same boat as him but trying to hide from it like the cowards everyone in this family was.

The old man of course moved to the bat computer to write a report while Dickhead went to the showers. Jason wasn't sure what to do, he was planning on leaving once he was sure the brat was ok. And the brat was ok now but Jason as much as he didn't want to admit it, he was a bat and he was curious about what was up with the brat and Timbo.

So plopped himself down on a chair. He needed some answers because as far as he was aware the little tyke was still chucking knives at Timmy weekly. And from the reactions of B and Dickhead they were as confused as he was. But maybe they knew more than he did, so he asked.

"You have any idea what all of that was about?" Jason asked, using his hand to motion over in the direction of the med bay.

The old man only let out a small sigh.

"So no?" He drawled on, "You have no recollection of those two ever becoming close despite the fact one lives with you full time and the other part time."

A glare was sent his way. Jason only shrugged, he had an excuse, he didn't live here anymore what was his?

Dickwad choose this moment to jog out the showers, his hair still damp and a bandage over his arm.

Huh.

Jason didn't even notice he was hurt, he was too busy focusing on all of the commotion.

"They seem ok in there?" he asked a ting of worry coating his words, his eyes transfixed on the door.

"Well no ones screaming so I'd say yeah."

He ignored Jason in favor of turning his attention to what B was doing on the Bat computer but it was clear his attention was split. His eyes kept on drifting to the door at least the old man was trying to be subtle about it, Dickhead had no such qualms. It was like this for maybe 5 minutes before Dickhead broke.

Let it be known that when it came to family matters little Dickie was very impatient.

"Should we check in on them?" leaning back against the bat computer consol, feinting nonchalance. (Which he was doing very poorly, Jason could see his balled up fists).

"The anti toxin does help counteract most of the fear toxins effects but the toxin still remains in the system for up to 4 hours and judging by Damian's reaction, as much as I want to, I believe our presence would only cause distress," the old man said.

He kept going on but Jason tuned him out, it wasn't like it was something he hadn't yet considered.

He scrubbed a hand down his face.

What was he even doing here?

He leaned back in his chair and stared up at the cave ceiling. Same old stalactites and same old bats hanging off of them. What was he even doing here other than to satisfy his own curiosity? He wasn't getting any answers from the elder bats and he wasn't going to get any answers from the little bats any time soon.

So he got up from his chair and strolled on down to the bikes. He wasn't gonna stay in the cave any longer than he had to.

"Jason," B barked.

Jason looked back lazily suddenly tired from the day/night (because what time was it actually—some ungodly hour for sure).

"What." he said rather harshly, sue him he was getting cranky.

"You're going?" Dickie asked.

"Yeah, well those two seem pretty well off without us interfering and I got a pot of spaghetti calling my name back at my apartment," he trailed off taking another step toward his bike. He was really hungry.

"How about yo—"

The med bay door opening cut him off. All of their attention was focused on the two emerging from the room. Tim was carrying Damian again, Tim didn't say anything but he did shot B a look before carrying the little brat to the showers.

What that was about, he didn't know.

What he did know was the kid looked pretty settled, he wasn't looking at any of them rather he kept his eyes fixed on the floor while his cheek was mushed against Tim shoulder. He looked fine and that's all that Jason needed to know. Tomorrow on patrol he could ask Tim what the hell this all was. Because right now all he wanted to do was get out of here.

Jason shot Dick a "I told you so" smirk before strolling to his bike and mounting it. B gave him an annoyed look at his carefree attitude which he definitely not using to hide how worried he was for his little brothers. But he had better things to worry about than the old man's feelings of all things.

"Well see ya at the next family get together, " he called out as he began to pull out the cave, leaving behind a mildly irritable Dickhead and an even more emotionally constipated Bruce.

His face sobered up once he was out of that suffocating cave.

He scoffed, honestly whenever those two were in a tizzy it was like everyone had to feel it. He scowled at the memories of harsh voices and oppressing atmospheres that had once (and still do) bounce off of cave walls.

….

He needed a fucking cigarette and that spaghetti. Today had been. too. fucking. long.

It was like the world had narrowed to just Damian.

Once Tim had pulled into the cave and laid his eyes on him, all his senses had zeroed in on the trembling boy, so terrified it made his chest ache. He didn't see Dick, Jason or Bruce, all he saw was his little brother so out of his depth. He was near tears, desperately holding back, and didn't that hurt?

He needed something to ground him and usually that was Dick but right now Tim was sure that Damian wanted to be no where near him. You couldn't be sure what fear gas recipients were experiencing but offering comfort from something familiar to the victim often helped.

Tim tucked in his little gift for later in his pocket he wouldn't be needing it now, not until Damian was more settled.

So he shifted his posture, slightly, barely noticeable in a way that his mother would have done to say that in this moment she was his mother, not Janet. Damian breath hitched but he didn't come to him, likely not wanting to show weakness.

He needed to give him another push, another sign to trust him. So he lifted his arms in a more open invitation at that terrified yet defiant face.

The relief was evident on his face which left another alarm ringing in Tim's head, Damian never left himself so open. The sword hanging in his hand was dropped to the cave floor—another sign Damian wasn't in the right head space. He showed that sword more love than he did to most people in the manor.

As soon as his sword touched the floor he shot forward, likely looking for comfort as did most victims of fear gas when offered and his face crashed into Tim's stomach, arms wrapped around his waist.

Tim had expected this—well not this development but he knew he would have to provide some sort of comfort like whenever he had to before, it was always where Tim would show he was available, that he was here and then Damian would hesitantly come close and in turn Tim would let him stay for as long as he needed. Never asked unless he wanted to speak, never pushed him away—just there.

But him being so—so desperate didn't sit right with Tim. He needed his brother back to the little boastful little shit he was. And to do that he needed to be there—just there for him. Sure he was expecting it just to be checking up on him and maybe spending the night in the manor just in case but that wasn't the case. Clearly he had miscalculated. But what he did know was how to be there (or at least he thinks he knows).

So in an act not completely unlike his late mother, he rested his arms around Damian—subtle, not too encompassing but grounding nonetheless. And it had been the final resolve in his tough guy act because the sobs that escaped this child made Tim realize why some parents were so overprotective because who would ever want their child to make such pitiful noises.

His hands now rubbed soothing circles into his back—something Tim always did whenever Damian cried. His hands already gripping his suit fiercely, seemed to tighten even further and his head he dug even further into his torso.

He was trying to muffle his sobs. Something Tim couldn't stand. Damian didn't have to hide from him.

Tim couldn't be sure what Damian was seeing that was making him so like this but if he had to guess it was likely the same stuff he always came to him about. He knew how to fix that.

The hands gripping his suit were then carefully removed from his suit and he knelt down to his eye level, holding those hands in front of him not letting go.

The tear tracks and snotty nose painted a sorry picture. His hand came up and wiped away the silent tears without a thought but stopped at the mask.

He frowned, it was probably uncomfortable having it on, Tim knew from the few breakdowns he's had in the mask that tears and mask make a sensory nightmare.

"Pass me the mask remover," he called out to no one in particular.

Dick handed it to him with a reassuring smile and a question in his eyes. Which means that tomorrow he will be greeted with an onslaught of questions—hell maybe even tonight.

Internally he rolled his eyes but externally he kept any trance of annoyance off of him, not wanting Damian getting the wrong idea because with the way he's staring at his face if he let it slip he's the least bit annoyed he would push him away or hide himself.

Diligently he removed the mask and revealed red rimmed jade green eyes filled with fear that he was attempting to hide away—the fight was so clear that it was disconcerting. Usually it was all micro expressions he had to examine to get a feel for whatever Damian was feeling but it was like everything had been times 10 and put on display. It should warm his heart that Damian choose to be so open with him rather than hiding behind a mask of aggression but all it left was an uncanny feeling.

Tim wouldn't lie and say he was the best with dealing with emotions because he wasn't when it came to personal relationships, call it his own version of self sabotage but with this relationship—this one with Damian he could say that he and Damian understood each other in a way most people never did.

So he knew the closest Damian had ever been to this level of vulnerability was that incident.

Which he didn't need to dwell on, it had been dealt with and it was in the past. They both were better from it anyway.

Robotically he removed his own domino mask and slipped into a familiar skin. He wasn't Red Robin, the vigilante or Tim Drake right now he was Tim, brother of Damian. His only goal as of now was to be a good brother and help Damian get his anti toxin.

A little smile graced his lips as he looked into Damian's eyes, a promise of good will between family. Damian reciprocated because he didn't have to robin right now. He didn't have to an Al Ghul or a Wayne right now. Just Damian brother of Tim. Whose only goal as of now was to stop feeling broken and terrified.

The silent tears which hadn't stopped much to Tim's chagrin, were now wetting his shoulder and Damian's arms now wrapped around his neck. Damian basically jumping onto him was neither unprecedented nor unwelcomed but did catch him a bit off guard (as did most given physical affection) so his hands did freeze before finding a place between Damian's shoulder blades and rubbing comforting circles.

What came next wasn't new—it seemed like he was falling back into old patterns—but Damian began to talk.

It was a mix of the league dialect, Mandarin and complete gibberish. Tim was fluent in Mandarin and he had picked up the league dialect when staying at the Cradle—not enough to be fluent but enough to understand whenever Damian choose to speak it. The gibberish was just Damian speak—a mixture of babble and said languages that wouldn't make sense to the regular person unless they were linguist or something of that nature.

Getting off topic but basically for the most part Tim understood what Damian was crying into his shoulder about (his grip was strong, had he not been in his gear on right now he was sure that Damian would be creating bruises).

And it just confirmed his suspicions on what Damian had been experiencing under the fear toxins influence. It also made it easier to know what to do.

Tim was no means good at knowing what to say when people were distressed. Yeah he took the lessons on how to deal with traumatized victims but when it came to personal relationships the right words never came out.

Of course his friends and the bats never blamed him, some even found it endearing because at least he was trying. It's just that this was just the way he was.

It worked in his favor most times as he managed to startle a laugh out some or confuse them out of whatever stupor they were in. But when it came to Damian, it was different.

Not because he was different—by no means it was the fact that he was the exact same as well. He struggled with giving and receiving affection, of course he's improved so much in the time he's been here but he still struggles.

Maybe it was because of the way both he and Damian were raised. They were similar there too. Both having been raised by cutthroat women who weren't that big on affection or reassurances.

His mother had taught him words and promises were to be taken with a grain a salt and that actions spoke in a way that words wouldn't and even then you have to find the motive behind those actions. The business world was cutthroat. Everyone is out for themselves.

There's no telling what the league taught Damian but being raised in an assassin cult wouldn't have been a good environment to cultivate trust. Actions spoke louder than the lies your mouth could spiel.

So when it came to Damian, words weren't need to comfort, actions were.

A small signal was given. One they made up between the two of them. His fingers tap once, twice. Pressed down. Followed by three quick taps.

A promise between Damian and Tim. One of protection. One that meant trust. One that meant he could relay all his problems and fears upon Tim and he would do his best to fix them.

And as much as he may deny it, Damian is afraid of many things. One of those being his Grandfather and one Tim could painfully sympathize with, inadequacy.

Despite his promise of protection tears still fell and Tim continued to wipe them away through Damian's blubbering mess. You can't really reason with fear now, can you.

"None of that, ok." He whispered.

Continuing to rub comforting circles in his back as he muttered a few things. Trivial matters to distract him, to ground him. Pieces of stories Tim would regal when Damian was bored enough to ask.

They were silly stories, ones that would bring a smile to Damian's face and sometimes bring out a puff a laughter. Tim couldn't see whether or not Damian was smiling but he had silenced himself and tightened his arms around his neck even more.

"You need the anti-toxin," Tim murmured into his ear. "It will help with the shadows," he reasoned at the non response from Damian.

A small tap on his back gave him the ok and he scooped up Damian in his arms carrying him past Bruce and Dick.

He hadn't really paid attention to his surroundings, only focusing on Damian's distressed state but out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dick's worry and Bruce's analytical gaze. Jason's confusion was also obvious from what he could deduce from the eyes burning into his back.

Sigh. This was going to be made into a big ordeal later.

The med bay was prepared for a fear toxin victim with the cot with the straps to hold you down out and anti-toxin dosages far away from the cot along with all sharp objects that could have been used as weapons.

Alfred was in the room but gave them a wide berth which was appreciated as Tim placed Damian onto the cot but he needed to know if Alfred had gotten the anti-toxin prepared and had foolishly assumed that he could leave Damian's side, even for just a moment. Damian's hand had shot out, grabbing him with that desperate certainty that wasn't at all like him, one that Tim usually saw from desperate, desperate men that could only ever be made in Gotham.

His face was even worse. He was basically oozing 'don't leave me'. Very un-Damian like. It was jarring to say the least. The closest Damian ever got to this was the few times he had come to Tim during late nights and early mornings when restful sleep evaded him and only nightmares plagued him. Even then he had no right to hurt Tim's heart in such a way. It pained him to see Damian like this.

If it were even possible his eyes turned even more pleading. The kid really knew how to tug onto the heartstrings. With a sigh that never left his lips he knelt down to show Damian had his undivided attention. Damian wished for his attention and that he would give him.

By looking into his eyes Tim saw the problem.

"Oh my little hero, I am not leaving you," he promised in a hushed tone.

His face screamed, then don't.

Fine. He wouldn't then.

He would have liked to have gotten Damian's anti-toxin sorted himself but Alfred could be trusted.

There was also more. Damian was pleading for more. It struck him once he had glanced back down to that hand still gripping his arm like a vice. He had assumed Damian wouldn't want too much physical affection. Both he and himself weren't big on it especially publicly. Damian said it ruined his reputation and Tim only put up with it from close allies and family for their sake.

But there had been times where there was a hand brushing through Damian's hair and a comforting hand rubbing circles into his back. Tim had thought Damian would want to at least wait until they were in the privacy of their own rooms before he came seeking out the one thing he spat upon but he guessed wrong. He had been sure that all that hugging earlier would have been enough.

He brought himself up and sat onto the cot. And as if Damian had done it thousands of times before (he had), he cuddled up to Tim and laid his head into his lap. Damian's face was turned inwards to his stomach leaving his back exposed. Something he never did in such an open space—it was something ingrained in all of them, never leave your blind spots exposed in any hostile environment.

Of course, the others and he himself left themselves relax in the presence of each other but Damian wasn't at that stage yet. Yeah if it called for it on a mission he would rely on them to have his back, they were a team, but it was still instinctive for him to leave no weakness exposed.

So that was just another signal to Tim of Damian's crumbling defenses and his warped mental state.

Removing his gauntlets, Tim let his hands fall into Damian's hair and let blunt fingers run over his scalp. The tension began to bleed out of him and Tim found himself easing at the sight of it but he couldn't relax yet. Damian needed the anti-toxin.

Leaning over the lying form below him Tim murmured, " I need to take off your gauntlets since you need the anti-toxin," he assured in a low voice, "It will be a quick prick and the solution will feel cool entering you system. It hasn't been tampered with, I made sure."

Damian's finger's tightened their grip on his suit but he made no move to object so Tim peeled the hand off of him and undid the latches to remove the gauntlet before moving onto the next hand.

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye—Bruce making a move to get closer but was held back by Jason.

Focus.

His main priority right now was making sure Damian gets the anti-toxin and was in his bed by the end of this.

He rolled up Damian's sleeve and began to disinfect the skin when he sent a glance to Alfred who passed the anti-toxin to him.

Tim busied himself with the syringe ignoring the questioning stares that had glaring a hole into him this entire ordeal. He wished Alfred would just close the door. This wasn't a show. He let out an irritated huff but inwardly cringed when Damian's fingers which had wrapped back around his suit, clenched tightly.

The needle was injected quickly like he said but Damian had still tensed up, greatly at that. Tim felt a little guilty for having to be the one to administer the anti-toxin even though he knew it was for the best.

But as quickly as Damian had tensed up he went limp as if a giant weight was lifted off his chest. It was probably like one had been lifted, the harshest effects of the fear toxin would be stopping now, but he wasn't in the clear yet Tim mused as he put the needle in pile with all the other trash needing to be put in the bin.

Tim's hand returned to Damian's head and was threading through the spiky locks. They stayed like that for a while, distantly he heard Alfred closing the med-bay door leaving them blissfully alone for the first time this night.

Tim found himself murmuring a light melody as he continued to run a hand through Damian's hair. It was peaceful, Tim could almost imagine that they weren't in the med-bay but in his room after a long patrol where Damian would peek into his room, quietly slip in and pad over to where Tim was working or lying down and just be…there.

Just watching, observing, waiting almost.

And then sometimes Tim would reach over and muse a hand through his hair or a hand to rub circles into his back.

And then sometimes Damian would lean into it.

But this wasn't that. The harsh sterile smell of the med-bay mixed with the earthy musk of the Cave made sure to bring him back to reality before he drifted too far. Not like he could afford to drift off, Damian still needed care.

They couldn't stay like this all night. They both needed to decontaminate and get upstairs into bed because dealing with fear toxin is exhausting and trust him he knew, he's had his far share of doses. Not something he liked to experience.

Damian wasn't asleep even though his eyes were closed, no one could go sleep that fast after such an adrenaline spike. He was just gathering himself and getting his breathing and heart rate under control. Then he would probably drop like a leaf and save for maybe few nightmares if the toxin still clings to his system he would be alright in the morning.

Maybe a little jumpy and a wounded a pride but Damian will bounce back. He always does. He's Robin. He has to.

…

He let out a breath and tapped his shoulder, twice. An eye peeked from beneath an eyelid, his face blank but Tim could tell he was rather annoyed. A small smile graced his lips and Damian let a little frown mar his own to show his displeasure.

Fine. He wouldn't tease him right now, key word now.

"You need a shower," Tim began.

A blank face was his response.

"Oh, come on don't be like that. You know fear toxin reeks when it's been on your clothes for long."

A still blank face looked up at him.

"Fine I'll carry you," Tim relented.

Another blank face was directed to him.

Pleasure doing business with ya, Tim mused as he carried Damian to the door. He paused because he could hear Dick, Bruce and Jason talking—well more so arguing through the door.

Damian's head resting on his shoulder nudged him and he was knocked out his stupor.

Right. Showers. Dick and Bruce were big enough to deal with whatever problem they're having right now. His priority was making sure Damian was alright.

He stepped out the med-bay but not before glancing at Bruce, he looked perplexed. Like he had a question on the tip of his tongue and knowing him, he did and he was just itching to ask it. To figure this out. He didn't need that right now—Damian didn't need that right now. And besides he was sure Bruce was piecing together things and came to some sort of conclusion by now. Out everyone in the Cave he was the one who had known them both, so he continued walking to the showers.

He could talk to Bruce about it in the morning. Or maybe never. That would be most preferable.

The warm water from the showers felt heaven sent. It always did after patrol. So blessingly warm on nights where the wind would bite at his nose and ears and so blessingly cool on nights where the heat and humidity would suffocate him.

He didn't take a long shower. He didn't want Damian alone if he got out before him.

He had grabbed some sweatpants from his locker but couldn't find any shirts. He must have forgotten to bring down some more on laundry day. It was alright he could just raid Dick or Bruce's locker for a shirt.

Damian stumbled out a little whiles after—well he didn't really stumble he would look quite alright if you weren't a bat but Tim was and he could see the hesitant in his steps. Something a creature as proud as Damian wouldn't do if he weren't covering up that he was likely seeing stars every time he blinked. Tim frowned.

Damian dressed himself and turned to face him. He was looking a lot better than before. Less pitiful and less scared but Tim wouldn't delude himself that the fear toxin effects had stopped by now.

Damian obviously wanted to say something but it looked like he was struggling to get the words out. Tim smiled despite himself.

"Well, I don't know about you but I'm beat. I'm going upstairs."

Tim turned on his heel and could feel the shit eating grin on his face. One, two, three and…a hand shot out and grabbed the hem of his shirt. He looked down with a look a faux confusion.

"Damian? Do you need anything?" He asked, knowing exactly want Damian wanted to ask but just wanted to bug him.

Of course Damian knew that which is why he glared. Tim didn't let that dampen his mood and kept that grin on his face.

His mouth opened then shut before he finally managed the words out.

"Could I…stay with you tonight..?"

Tim spent a moment pretending to consider it, with a finger tapping on his chin. He could feel Damian shift beside him, placing more of his weight onto Tim before he smiled down at Damian sending him a grin one could only describe as smug.

"Do you even have to ask."

Damian rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything. It goes without saying that Damian wanted to be carried too and with the way he was swaying Tim wasn't sure he trusted Damian to walk up the stairs without eating shit.

Picking him up wasn't an unfamiliar action nor was it unwelcome. Damian practically melted into his embrace. It was probably because of the last strains of the fear toxin was still making him jumpy and because the anti-toxin did make the user a bit drowsy.

Outwardly Tim showed no reaction because he knew Damian would kick him but internally he was laughing like an idiot.

Damian's arms squeezed around his neck minutely as he buried his head further into Tim's shoulder, knocking Tim out of his stupor, signaling that he wanted to go. He was probably tired and didn't want to show it.

What a brat.

But honestly it was good to see that Damian was back to acting how he usually does. Tim wouldn't lie and say that tonight didn't scare him.

Tim exited the showers with Damian in his arms. He didn't look back to Dick and Bruce because he didn't want to give them an opening to talk and he really didn't want to deal with whatever issue they were having with each other.

They were adults they could handle themselves.

…

Yeah, right. Who was he kidding. But, again not his problem. Right now. Those twos problems always seem to find everyone.

Tim could feel his eyebrow twitch. Damian squeezed his arms again and Tim was reminded of his mission. Getting the hell out of here and into bed.

He could hear shuffling behind him, footsteps and the regular motions of using the Bat computer. Please don't follow us upstairs, Tim basically begged in his mind.

He only allows himself a glance at them when he enters the elevator and turns around to press the button. Bruce is as usual sitting at the Bat computer watching them while Dick was standing just ahead of Bruce looking as if he was minutes from following them. He looked a bit troubled with his face pulled into a confused stare but Tim didn't get time to pick apart Dick's facial expressions as the elevator doors shut quickly leaving him and Damian blissfully alone.

Damian's head finally let up from pressing itself into his shoulder which was starting to get painful because Damian had a pointy ass chin like his dad, and laid on its side so that he could watch Tim's profile. With it now finally quiet, Tim let out a breath. Damian moved a little as Tim shifted his arms a little, finding a more comfortable hold.

Okay. The hard part was over, all he had left was the other hard part that was maybe avoidable if he pulled a Bruce and shut down. Maybe.

The elevator doors opened to the study and Tim stepped out. The manor was quiet as it usually was at this time since everyone would still be out patrolling. It was peaceful albeit unnerving because the manor's quiet was always different from any other silences. There was no describing it, it was just different.

He didn't want it to be quiet after a night like tonight, it just seemed a little cruel. Silence always made it easier to dwell on thoughts that hurt. Ti—Damian didn't need that.

A simple little tune was what he hums to fill the quiet, it some old song that he could barely remember the lyrics of but he remembered how much Dick used to sing it. He would belt out the chorus so loud that Bruce's eye would twitch.

Tim turns a corner finally making it to Damian's room. Damian kicks out his leg making Tim pause.

Tim huffs before turning on his heel and walking back down the hallway. The little shit could have at least told him he wanted them to sleep in Tim's room when they passed it like 45 seconds ago. Like he's tired too and doesn't want to be walking up and down the halls. Ugh.

Asshole.

Tim could feel him smirking against his shoulder. If Tim wasn't a better person he would have dropped Damian on his ass in front of his door but thankfully for Damian he's indulging him tonight. Only tonight.

His room is a mess. He didn't even bother tidying up this morning and knowing Damian he knows he's going to throw a little hissy fit in the morning on how he's going to catch a disease in this room. It's not even that dirty just messy. There's a difference. Trust him, dirty is all Dick's room.

Maybe he could pick up a few off the things on his floor and clean up his nightstand.

Carefully he unlatches Damian off of him and places him onto his bed and turns toward his nightstand. Half the stuff is pushed into his drawer and the other is chucked into his hamper from across the room.

Tim turns, about to cross his room before a hand shoots out and grabs his shirt. The grip is steadfast bewildering Tim for a moment before he looks down. Damian's eyes are red as if he's on the verge of tears and he looks scared.

Tim almost wants to face plant. Quietly he mutters an apology and assurances that he isn't leaving.

Sometimes he falls for the brave face Damian puts up, of course the child under fear toxin for the first time ever is still going to be scared even with the antidote kicking in.

Tim tucks himself into bed next to Damian and it's almost instantaneous the way he curls up next to him. He can't fight the grin off of his face.

He brings a hand up towards Damian's head. It's hesitant at first, scared of Damian shying away but the way Damian melts tells him he had no reason to be hesitant. Carefully fingers card through downy hair still slightly damp at roots. One would be surprised how silky his hair is due to how much gel he uses to make his hair seem as spiked as possible.

They stay like that for who knows how long. Damian mostly soundly asleep aside from the after effects of the fear toxin forcing him awake with nightmares a few times. Tim is quick to soothe him, switching between running a hand through his hair and rubbing circles into his back. Tim finds himself too drifting off. The night is as restful as it can be when it comes with dealing fear toxin.

There even comes a time somewhere in between one of Damian's nightmares and the grogginess of fitful sleep where his door opens, light from the hallway spilling in, illuminating the figure peeking in. Damian had been mushed against his chest, his ear over his heart while Tim had one of his arms slung over Damian's shoulders keeping him close. Damian had not stirred (trusting Tim to keep him safe) while Tim cracked an eye open to see the breaker of their peace. The figure—he stays a moment longer surveying them before closing the door leaving them both bathed back in darkness.

Tim shuts his eyes and goes back to sleep.

.

.

.

.

It would be the shuffling of limbs that awakens Tim. Damian was always squirmy in the morning. Squinting , eyes still bleary with sleep he spies Damian shifting around with his pointy elbows coming dangerously close. Huffing because he knew what came next and had no intention of following so he grabs Damian in hopes to get him to stop moving.

Damian, of course began grumbling under his breath, protesting advocating for his right to get up and get on with his day despite clearly still being half asleep himself. He relents after a minute sagging against Tim which again shows he was totally not ready to get up because only a truly exhausted Damian would still cling to him in broad daylight. Doesn't matter, they—no Damian deserves a lazy morning.

A breeze disturbs the curtains letting sunlight invade the room. It's rare—the sunlight and contrary to popular belief (Conner's belief) Gothamites weren't all vampires and hated sunlight so the light breeze combined with the warmth of the sun was welcomed to say the least. A content sigh escapes him while next to him Damian shifts once more.

Peeking down onto him Tim is surprised to not see a haughty face looking at him in disgust but one still overcome with sleep. He turns onto his side propping his head on his elbow.

Damian really is a strange creature, he muses as lightly, barely even touching, he runs a finger along the lines of his face. He traces up along the bridge of his nose to his forehead where he smooths out the lines from his slightly scowling face. Don't worry he's not bothered, that's just his natural resting face.

The breeze picks up again, fluttering the curtains again allowing more sunlight in. Tim squints somewhat at the sudden uptick in light. His gaze leaves Damian for a moment contemplating if it would be worth it to get up and tie down the curtains before he ultimately decides he isn't leaving this bed until he's dragged from it.

His head flops against the bed, his eyes still on Damian's face before the drift away to miscellaneous objects of his room. His skateboard, the dirty clothes hanging from his dresser, the posters on his wall, his headphones …

Damian's hand which lay beside him is picked up. His hand is smaller than his—not by a lot, he's growing and catching up to him. He runs his fingers over knuckles able to incapacitate men and monsters alike. His hands are calloused like how theirs all are, from protecting their city.

He continues to run his fingers along his hand, it's done almost absentmindedly with his attention still on cataloguing his room. A sharp intake of breath has his head snapping back onto Damian, worry already etching itself on his brow, only to see the slightly annoyed and grumpy expression on his face. A small smile climbs onto his face, Damian only glares.

"I should be out of bed by now," he grumbles.

Tim let's out a non committal hum, turning his engrossment onto Damian's hands, playing with fingers.

Damian let's out a sigh befit of an elderly man lamenting about the hardships of his life.

"We get to lay in today, last night was a lot," Tim answers after a moment.

"You mean you want to lay in. Do not rope me into your need for idleness."

"Eh, pish posh."

Damian rolls his eyes and makes the move to get up, quickly Tim clasps a hand around his arm stopping him. Damian looks down onto him, a clear look of annoyance marring his face.

"Cease this display or I will carve out of new hole in your face."

It's a cute threat but Damian doesn't know of Tim's secret weapon.

"I don't know about that Damian, if you leave how will I give you my present?" Tim asks.

Damian perks right up, "What type of present?"

Tim doesn't answer and instead reaches over to his nightstand into his drawer and pulls out the little box he had hide in there last night. He had actually planned on giving it to Damian on his birthday but he decided today would be good because everyone needs a pick me up after dealing the fear toxin. It was basic human decency.

Flopping back down on his pillow Tim hands it to Damian.

Sending him a sideway glance Damian opened the box only to let out a gasp of delight.

Tim allows himself a smirk of satisfaction—he worked hard in finding that gift. It was a keychain of some character from this show Damian had taken a liking to. The show was still relatively new so there wasn't a lot of merch to buy especially stuff that could be shipped over hence why when Tim had been in Hong Kong last month with Cass and he knew he had to go looking for some. Don't tell Damian this but this wasn't the only thing he got but Damian can wait til his birthday for the rest. He still wants to one up Jason when it comes to best presents.

Damian of course having been bought doesn't get up and in fact tucks himself back in.

They stay like this, Damian soaking in the blatant affection and Tim allowing himself to idle. It's peaceful. It's moments like this that make Tim wish he could just bottle them up and relive them over and over again.

But like all good things they must come to an end. A knock on the door jolts him for his haze of sleepiness.

Alfred enters with a tray of breakfast for them both. He doesn't speak aside from a quiet good morning young masters before placing the tray on Tim's nightstand and busying himself with some tidying up of Tim's room. It's not that Alfred's presence is unwelcome it just shatters the illusion of them being alone and that soon enough Damian will have to face the music (Tim's sure he's in the clear—for now).

Actually pulling himself up is more challenging than he'd like to admit, the lethargy weighs him down. Damian despite all his grumbling earlier about getting up buries himself further in the covers, likely to hide his embarrassment if his red ears are anything to go off on.

Breakfast is pancakes that Tim scarfs down. He pokes Damian with his fork beckoning him to eat, eliciting a growl of irritation and for him to finally get up and eat something. Alfred doesn't clean for long turning his attention onto Damian and pulling out some medical equipment from somewhere.

Damian is complaint in allowing Alfred to check him over—it's just a precaution making sure the fear toxin is truly out of his system and isn't having any lasting negative effects.

"It seems that aside from some exhaustion Master Damian has a clear bill of health, " Alfred concludes, packing away his equipment, "Do try to not to make a mess with the food I'd rather not deal with another roach infestation."

Tim grins, "You know that was all Dick's fault. I'm guiltless."

Under Damian's disbelieving stare Tim rears back, "The exterminator literally spent the most time in his room."

"And he spent none in mine," Damian snarked. "There's a reason why Pennyworth prohibits only you two from eating in your rooms."

"Oh, shut up. The only reason why he didn't go in your room was because you were scaring the shit out of him with your creepy little face."

Damian splutters, "I did not."

"Um, yeah you did. You would have thought your room was a porn dungeon the way you were guarding it."

"WHAT—"

"Maybe we should check all your manga to be sure—"

Alfred sighs turning on his heel, "Rest well Master Damian."

.

.

.

.

By the time Tim finally dragged himself out of bed, Damian had already scurried out of his room declaring himself in need of a shower after spending the night in his 'dirty room' which was a lame ass excuse if he'd ever heard one. Because number one his room isn't dirty, it's messy—yes there is a difference and number two Damian was probably just embarrassed and didn't want anyone else seeing him all cuddled up with his brother.

It's actually just as he's leaving his room he runs into Dick. Literally.

Silently he curses, thinking he could have avoided everyone at least until it was after noon but alas. Maybe he could still make a break for it—

"I just checked on Damian," he began, pointing his thumb down the hall.

"Yeah?"

"He seems to be doing alright."

"Yeah, well he's stronger than most. I bet he was already yelling at you to stop coddling him."

Dick let out a chuckle, "He was."

A silence befell them, with Tim not wanting to be in this conversation and Dick clearly struggling to spit out what he really wanted to say to Tim. His mouth opened and shut, the words cut off before they could fully leave.

"It's good to know you and Damian are getting along."

"Mm."

"I—, "he started before cutting himself off. "When did—"

Tim blinks when yet again he stops himself. Dick runs a hand over his face which turns into him massaging the space between his eyebrows.

"You know what I don't care," Dick mutters under his breath, turning his sight back onto an awkward Tim. "Thank you for taking care of Damian last night. You really saved the day with whatever's going on with you two and I'm really glad you guys are looking after each other."

"Right."

Because literally what are you supposed to say to that. You're welcome? Thank you? Or we only got close due to the weird similarities between our mother's, who weren't overtly affectionate women due to their own personal circumstances paired with non-personal fathers for most of their lives, forcing them to leech their own stunted versions of affections from each other because if there was anyone who would understand their relationship with comfort from family, it would be each other?

Dick sighs, "Yep," he says, popping the 'p', "Well I'm just gonna go," gesturing down the hall.

Tim nodded, "Right," before turning on his heel and basically booking it.

He wasn't this awkward usually but he would take his blessing where he could. No questionings from Dick!

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He manages to avoid everyone else for the rest of the morning and it wouldn't be until mid-afternoon someone would seek him out. He knew he should have went to the other office instead of the library, but the library had the best couch so he risked it. He just wanted to play his switch in peace not get interrogated because his family was weirded out by all of last night. He supposes Damian has it worse right now but that doesn't excuse his own pain. He's suffering.

A hulking figure stands in the door way blocking all means of escape unless…yeah but he's not that desperate. He can listen to Bruce for a couple of minutes….yeah no he is that desperate.

"Tim."

Not looking up from his Scarecrow mii confessing his love to his Justin Bieber mii, "Yeah, B."

Maybe if he acts uninterested and/or busy he will go away, like how possums play dead. A beat of silence passes before Bruce audibly sighs. He enters the room, going to sit across from him giving Tim an opening to dash out but Tim doesn't take it.

It's like a taking off a bandaid, better to get it over with quick.

"I just wanted to thank you for taking care of Damian when we couldn't."

"You don't have to thank me for last night and Dick already—"

"This isn't about last night."

Tim looks up. Bruce looks tired. He's also looking at Tim with that look on his face.

"I just wanted to say that I appreciate the way you've looked out Damian, in ways that I can't."

"Me looking out of Damian isn't an obligation. It's just something I do. You don't have to thank me for it. Ever." The words come out much harsher than he intended but the message is there. Helping Damian isn't some pet project he does for approval, he does it because he cares and understands and so does Damian. They understand each other and they help each other. He adds on softer, "He's my brother."

"And for that I'm glad."

Tim's eyes stray back up to Bruce. He looks tired but he looks happy—no proud.

He continues," I'm glad you two have each other."

Tim lets out a soft agreement, ducking in his chin to hide the small smile on his face. Although you couldn't pay Tim enough money to say it out loud he's glad he has Damian too.

"You know, now that I see it I can't unsee it," Bruce comments, instead of leaving.

"Huh?"

"Talia."

Tim only raises an eyebrow in further question. If Bruce is going to be vague he can to. Bruce only crosses his arms over his chest.

"You're both remarkable people. " He says so plainly like it's a fact. The sky is blue and Talia and Tim are remarkable people. And he doesn't stop there. "You're both strong-willed, confident—actually a bit cocky—"

The scoff Tim lets out is almost involuntary but it doesn't deter Bruce.

"—You're both strategic and analytical, able to take lead in any situation."

Tim preens. He is pretty smart.

"And you're both so independent. You only ever rely on yourselves— "

That gets Tim to pause.

"—but when you do rely on someone, it's full-heartedly," He pause before he says it, "You two are quite alike."

"You really think so?" Tim asks.

"Yeah."

"Damian is the same too." He says that too like a fact. Damian is like Tim, Tim is like Talia, Talia is like Damian.

"So what, me and Damian get along because we're the same person?" Tim questions with a laugh.

"No."

"No? You just said all that—"

Bruce shakes his head, "You two are your own persons. I'm just realizing now the similar attributes you all have," He adds on almost like a second thought," You might be alike to Talia but you are more like your mother if anything."

Tim rolls his eyes, "Don't you think I've heard it enough times how much I am like my mom."

"I guess."

It's a tease, one in which Tim sticks his tongue out to.

Another silence befalls them, this one less strained than the first and just like the first Bruce is the one to break it.

"You know what I think I understand it," Bruce leans back in his seat as he speaks.

"Understand what?"

"You and Damian."

"What? What's there to understand?"

Bruce only lets out a huff of breath before simply stating, "A lot."

"Like what?"

Bruce only shrugs in response. A spark of annoyance wedges itself into Tim. What is Bruce talking about at this point? He's being obtuse on purpose and it's annoying.

"Well then oh so understanding guru, do you even understand us? " he asks mockingly. If there's anything to understand, he doesn't add.

"I do." He states this too like an indisputable fact.

That gets a laugh out of him, only Bruce could be this annoying, "You do?"

"Yeah."

"Are you even going to elaborate?" Tim questions.

Bruce only shakes his head. I think it's better to leave things the way they are, is what he doesn't say but Tim can tell. He reaches out and squeezes Tim's shoulder.

"You're a good kid Tim."

And that's all that matters, is also what he doesn't say but Tim can tell.

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It's funny actually, Tim had been the one worried about an interrogation on his part but he ended up being the one asking all the questions. He scoffs, really and truly only Bruce could be this annoying.

He refuses to acknowledge the warm feeling spreading in his chest.