Chapter Text
Tim was good at isolation. In fact, he preferred to be isolated, sometimes. He got some of his best work when he was on his own, and he never had to worry about appearing a certain way, too. He was also good at minimizing the worry his isolating tendencies garnered. He stopped by the Manner once a week for their mockery of a family meals; he had lunch with Bruce at WE every now and then.
He'd call Dick at least once a week to talk about something that wasn't their night routine. Jason texted sometimes, sparse and usually bitter about something. Barbara would send him cases; he would stop at her base some nights with coffee and donuts. Tim was good at pretending to be normal. He'd done it for so long it was almost second nature.
After his efforts to appear normal to his family, he would turn into his own Nest and rot in his bed, train until his muscles ached, or stare down paperwork until he couldn't keep his eyes open. He didn't reach out beyond his small attempts to seem normal. Families would text frequently, he figured, but he didn't know what a normal family was like. Maybe none of them did. Maybe that's why it worked.
He saw the Team as little as he could manage. Bart stopped by sometimes; Cassie texted more than the others, but things were still weird between them. Conner called, or he texted, sometimes he'd stop by. Tim was good, too, at pretending he could look his best friend in the eye and pretend he was fine.
Sometimes he had nightmares that he was back in his lab. Sometimes he dreamt about his experiments working, and some strange Kon-like clone emerged from his test tubes. He tried not to think about it. He tried not to think of a lot of things. He tried even harder to hide it all after Bart pulled him aside one day and told him with earnest eyes, that Tim had people he could talk to.
The only person he didn't feel like suffocating around was Ives. Ives, who knew Tim better than most of his friends despite not even knowing his secret night life. Ives who got comics with him and watched stupid movies and seemed to have time for him no matter what. He didn't ask about Tim's disappearance from when he was searching for Bruce, he always let Tim come to him on his own. But Tim could see the questions in his eyes, sometimes.
Tim did a lot of little things for him. He added Ives to the Wayne scholarship program during his time as CEO, paying for all of his college. He paid for his cancer treatments, though the man never mentioned if he knew of it. When Ives mentioned, even in passing, that he'd seen something he wanted, Tim found a way to get it. He had a deep need to keep Ives around, even though he knew Ives wasn't a material person.
Since Tim returned, isolating himself from everyone was easy. Except for Ives, who had a personal vendetta against Tim not checking in at least a few times a week. Ives would call him to go to the movies, or he'd come over to Tim's Nest and force him to cook them a mediocre meal, because really, Tim didn't have time to learn how to cook. Ives singlehandedly kept Tim from fully regressing to all his bad habits.
Which was why he couldn't, for the life of him, focus on what Bruce was saying. Ives had texted him here and there throughout the day, which he typically did. It was almost as if he also didn't want Tim to disappear again. He kept looking under the table and sending quick texts between bites of meatloaf. Alfred had a strict no phones at the table rule, which everyone generally adhered to.
Dick kicked him under the table, eyebrows up. Tim turned his phone off and pressed it against his thigh but refused to meet his semi-scolding look. Damian simply looked unimpressed from across the table.
"What have you been up to, Tim?" Bruce asked eventually. "You've been busy."
Tim shrugged his shoulder, pushing his green beans across his plate. "Just business. Cases." He didn't tell them that he enrolled in a few college classes, just on the principle that he didn't think they needed to know. Who knew if he was even going to stick to it?
Bruce seemed unimpressed with the reply but moved on to ask about Damian's day. Dick sent him another look that Tim steadily ignored. His phone buzzed against his thigh several times, and he fought against the urge to check it. When lunch was finished and dessert was served, Tim took a peek.
"Hey, I actually need to go." He said, standing up.
"Is everything okay?" Alfred asked, alarmed.
"Um," Tim said. "Yeah, I just, yeah. Don't worry."
He smiled down at his phone and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. He saw the odd looks his family sent him but ignored it and bid them goodbye. He might have broken a few speeding laws on the way to the Gotham Hospital. He parked in the front, where Ives always left his group support sessions, and scrolled on his phone as he waited. Ives didn't take long to shuffle out, looking tired by happy.
"Hey," Tim said, hurrying up to wrap him in his arms. "Dude, this is great news. I'm really happy for you."
Ives held him back for a moment before he pulled away and smiled, "Ice cream?"
"Duh." Tim said and held the door open for Ives.
Ives had been battling illnesses after illnesses since high school. Getting a clear bill of health was something Tim never dared to hope for. He pulled up to their usual cheap spot, where they'd been going for years. They got two cones stacked high with different ice cream flavors and made a challenge to see who could finish their's first.
Tim felt light for the first time in a while. He watched the way Ives' nose scrunched up as he laughed, his eyes bright. He couldn't imagine how this news hit him, someone who was always preparing for the worst.
"You know," Tim said, softly. "When we were in high school, I always thought that it was a good thing you weren't evil."
"What?" Ives snickered, mirth curling his mouth. "Why?"
"You can do anything you want." He said simply. "You put your mind to something and it happens."
Ives put his hand on Tim's. "Can we go to yours?"
"Yeah." Tim said, surprised.
It was a quick drive to his Nest, and when he pulled into the garage, he turned his car off. Ives stopped him from opening the door and looked oddly nervous.
"Tim, I have gotta tell you something." He said. Tim nodded and watched as his friend took a deep breath. "I know you're Robin. Or, I guess, Red Robin now."
"I..." Tim thought about denying it. He'd done it plenty of times. He had many contingency plans in case anyone knew. But this was Ives. "For how long?"
"I always had a suspicion, but you're good at hiding it." Ives admitted. "It was when you left. Robin was now some other kid, and there were cases of some vigilante in different countries. Then, Red Robin came here at the same time you returned."
Tim smiled slightly, nervous. "Well. I guess nothing gets past you. Are you mad?"
"No." Ives said. He shook his head, "No. I worry, sure. But...I thought I was going to die, you know? I thought, at least I could let you have your secrets. But I'm not going to die." His voice broke, and he cleared it. "I'm not going to die."
"I know." Tim whispered, he reached out his hand placed it on Ives'.
Ives looked at him, his eyes roaming over his face as though he was trying to decipher him. "Tim, I didn't want to hurt you."
Tim's heart raddled against his chest. "What are you saying?"
Ives turned his hand around and squeezed his fingers. "Tim. You were always there for me. You never judged me or made me feel small. Whenever I needed you, you were there." He looked up over the rims of his glasses, and there was a small flush on his cheeks. "I didn't realize it until you left, but I love having you in my life. I love you."
Tim opened and closed his mouth. "Ives...I - you don't want this. I'm messed up, man."
Ives gave him a dry look. "I kind of figured. I am too. Look, we can just...stay friends. I get it. But just tell me you don't feel the same way instead of doing the it's not you, it's me bullshit."
"I'm not doing that." Tim said. "I was giving you an out."
Ives met his eyes again. "Well, I'm not taking it."
Tim leaned over the center consol and pressed their lips together. Immediately, Ives fisted his shirt, pulling him closer. His lips were soft and his mouth was warm. He tasted sweet. Tim let out an embarrassing little noise when fingers curled into his nape.
"Wait, wait." He breathed. Ives pulled back and Tim rested their foreheads together. "I love you too."
Ives snorted, brushing his fingers gently along Tim's cheek. They kissed a few more times before it got uncomfortable to press into the consol. They ended up on the couch, and the movie they put on quickly got discarded as they continued to kiss. Ives ran his hands over the scars that covered Tim's torso but didn't look horrified or change his mind about this – them.
Later, Tim made them dinner as Ives watched. They actually watched the movie as they scraped pasta off their plates.
"Can I stay tonight?" Ives asked.
"Yes," Tim said. "Always."
Ives already had a spare toothbrush there, and they brushed their teeth side by side. Tim lent him some clothes to sleep in, and Ives took the left side of the bed without asking. They laid side by side, and for the first time that evening, Tim felt anxiety creep in. Was this too fast? Did he even put thought into this?
"What's it like?" Ives asked suddenly, voice a whisper. "To be Robin?"
Tim closed his eyes. Robin was something different for all of them. For Dick it was justice, before everything, Jason saw it as freedom, Steph saw it as stifling, and Damian saw it as a way to prove himself. Tim saw it as a responsibility, in the beginning. Then it became all he knew.
"Fighting crime is exhilarating." Tim started slowly. "I got addicted to the adrenaline. To saving people, and the wind in my hair as I jumped off buildings. But, Robin isn't just that. It's dark, too."
Ives curled up against his side. "And Red Robin?"
"It doesn't feel like me." Tim admitted, he turned to Ives, too. He trailed his fingers over Ivess' arm, smiling slightly. "I took it up because it was already an established identity. I want something that feels like mine."
"Maybe I can fight crime too." Ives teased.
Tim laughed and tugged the blanket up higher. "Maybe."
_
"What are you doing here." Tim demanded, unsure if he should be angry or not.
Damian sniffed. "Well, it is hardly our fault you left suspiciously yesterday."
"We just want to make sure you're fine." Dick said, and tried to peek past Tim to look into the bedroom. "Is someone over?"
Despite himself, Tim blushed. Jason, who he assumed got dragged along, scowled at him. "Seriously? If I have to go to those shitty lunches, you do too."
"I was there!" Tim defended, "I just left early."
"And it's fine," Dick said placatingly. "We have breakfast. Go get your...friend?"
Tim glared at him. He heard Ives shift in the bed behind him and turned in the doorway to look at him. His hair was messy from sleep, and he squinted in Tim's direction.
With a sigh, Tim went back to his room. He sat down next to Ives and handed him his glasses. "My brothers are here. I can sneak you out and you can steal my car?"
Ives laughed at him. He was good at that.
"But I heard they have breakfast." Ives said.
"Traitor." Tim replied.
He went to stand, but Ives stopped him with a hand on his. He smiled up at Tim, this tired, soft one and leaned in to kiss him. Tim smiled despite himself and helped him get out of bed. Dick sat at the table with a distinct look on his face that said he was spying. Jason and Damian argued over who got the better-looking scone, uncaring of Ives standing in Tim's clothes.
"Ives, right?" Dick asked.
"Yeah, good to see you again." Ives replied. He helped himself to a plate of breakfast, "Sorry for stealing Tim yesterday."
"It's fine." Dick replied, waving his hand. He watched Ives with a curious look, the detective in him needing answers.
"Are you and Timothy an item?" Damian asked bluntly.
"Brat." Tim hissed. Damian glowered back.
"Yeah," Ives said, shrugging. "And I know you're Robin."
Everything fell silent. Tim pinched his nose. "Seriously?"
"What? Isn't getting it out of the way better?" Ives asked.
"No!" Tim replied, aghast.
"You told him?" Damian ground out.
"No, he found out." Tim huffed.
"So, you lost your touch." Jason said, scoffing, "Figures. I ain't telling Bruce."
"Not it!" Tim and Damian said.
"Damnit." Dick replied. "This is the last time I am ever checking on you."
Ives sent him a look as if to say, "See, it's fine." Tim rolled his eyes back.
"Just wait until Young Justice find out he knows," Dick said, pointing at Tim with a fork. "He didn't tell them for years. He even gave them a fake identity!"
Ives pursed his lips, nodding his head. "Which one?"
"There is no way you knew I had fake IDs." Tim said.
Ives gave him a look. "Alvin?"
"How do you know that?" Tim asked. Ives laughed, and even his brothers seem amused at that. "No, seriously, how do you know that?"