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queerbutstillhere-writes · 4 years

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Day 5: Quarantine

- You can't come over tomorrow.

~ what do you mean? "Can't"?

- Gotham is on quarantine. Mandatory. Only medical personel allowed out. Hell, even the JL grounded us.

• I'm seeing can't, but hearing "help me please"

- guys. This is serious.

• for you, maybe. Timmie, we can't get sick from Covid. Kon is alien, and my metabolism is just too fast for it.

- Bart..

~ he's right, Tim.

- Do not encourage him, Kon.

- you two are not allowed to come.

Tim sighed, staring at his laptop monitor. He’d been stuck in quarantine for several days now. Alone in his apartment. He could probably suit up and hightail it across town to get to the manor if he wanted, but being quarantined alone sounded far more appealing then bring quarantined in the manor with his siblings. Dick would probably drag him into nightly board (read: bored) games, Bruce would be constantly trying to bond, Damian would probably never stop insulting him. Duke and Cass would probably be fine, but Duke was easily roped into Dick's shenanigans, and Cass had that habit of creeping up on you.

No. Tim would survive being stuck alone, working on case files and reading news headlines. Today's news was singing the praises of Wayne Enterprises for their massive donations to research centers, the city, and for them paying for housing and healthcare for homeless. They were also praising Bruce for personally paying for the Covid testing and for paying for food and housing costs for those who couldn't afford it. Bruce had enough money to do so, so he might as well, right?

Amusingly, Tim had seen a headline from Star City about Red Hood and Arsenal highjacking a supply truck full of toilet paper and medical supplies and redistributing it among the poor and homeless, as well as stealing from some stores and making care packages for the homeless.

But now, his idiot boyfriends, severely upsetted by the fact that their Thursday date night had been cancelled, were texting and calling him non-stop, trying to convince him to let them come, finding out if he needed anything ("do you have food?" "Yes, Kon." "I'm talking real food, Tim. Not some Rice Krispies and a few boxes of cereal." "Conner."), and constantly fretting over him. Did he mention they kept whining about missing date night? Well they did. Even the suggestion that they could still hang out with each other didn't appease them. ("But we need our Robin! Our birdie!")

Tim Drake was a smart man. He was a good detective. If he had been at the manor, he'd probably be working with Bruce to develop faster testing, or figure out cures. But what Tim forgot, is how truly, truly, dumb his boyfriends are.

So he really shouldn't have been surprised to hear his door open on Thursday evening.

But yet, he was.

He shot up off his sofa, spinning towards the door. He hadn't changed in a day, and probably hadn't showered in three. His apartment was a mess and honestly he didn't remember what he had for breakfast that day. But yet he grabbed the nearest thing to him, an empty metal waterbottle, and brandished it as a weapon.

"Oh, I'm so scared," a chipper voice said, with a laugh.

"Bart?!" Tim exclaimed, half in shock and anger.

Standing in the entry way of his apartment was Bart Allen and Conner Kent. Conner was carrying several bags of groceries, and Bart had a couple jugs of milk and juice.

"What are you two doing?!" Tim hissed, glaring.

"Uh, visiting, duh?"

Bart zipped to the fridge, putting up his jugs, and then dumping a backpack that Tim hadn't noticed earlier onto the floor.

"Bart," Tim said, his tone dropping to his more commanding, Robin voice.

He noted Kon was also carrying a duffel bag. The man just smiled and then turned to walk into the kitchen.

"Nonono, I know what's going on here, you two aren't staying."

"Why not? We can't get it, and you're just gonna . . ." Bart motioned at the messy living room. "Besides, what if we quarantine ourselves with you."

"Well, because! Because. . . " Tim scowled at him.

He was starting to lose his energy to argue. And he was getting pretty lonely. And this . . . He wasn't wrong either. They could just quarantine together. . .

"And also, now if you need something, one of us can just zip over to metropolis and pick it up, or go do laundry at Clark and Lo's," Kon called from the kitchen.

"And if you do get sick! You'll have us to look after you!" Bart exclaimed, zipping over and kissing Tim before he could protest.

Tim glared at him from just a few inches away, then at Conner, who had moved to the doorway. They both just grinned at him.

"Fine. Fine! You can stay!" He exclaimed, defeated.

Bart whooped and kissed Tim again.

"Okay, first things first. You need to take a shower, man," Bart told him, wrinkling his nose. "Or else no cuddles."

Tim, touch starved as always, found himself immediately hating that idea.

"Also, we need to clean this place up. So, you go shower and brush your teeth and shave and stuff - or don't shave - and Kon and I will clean up and start supper!"

Tim huffed at him, but obeyed, heading towards the bathroom, stopping by Conner first to give him a quick kiss. Kon just grinned and pulled him in close, tweaking Tim's nose before kissing him. Then he shoved Tim towards the bathroom.

He went through the bedroom first, snagging some clean clothes, and then went into the bathroom. He quickly stripped and showered, making sure to clean his hair thoroughly, he shaved when he got out, and quickly brushed his teeth as instructed, because frankly, he didn't remember the last time he had done that and didn't want to make his boyfriends deal with that.

When he got back out, admittedly feeling a little better, he noted Bart and Kon's bags on his bed. He just sighed and shook his head, walking back to the main room. He could already smell the tomatoey scents of Italian food, and wondered what all those two had actually brought with them. There was some form of pop music playing, and he could hear Bart happily singing along to it, Kon chiming in occasionally with the choruses. Tim chuckled and looked around the living room.

They had cleaned up trash and dishes and fixed the pillows on the sofa. The curtains had been opened, and a candle was burning on the coffee table and all the glasses and mugs and plates had been removed. Tim walked over and leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching Bart dart around and cook, while Kon washed dishes.

"This that hot girl bummer anthem. Turn it up and throw a tantrum~" Bart sang, doing a little dance as he darted from the fridge back to the stove, throwing a few things into a sauce.

"What are you making?" Tim asked softly, but they both heard him.

"Hey! He's clean!" Bart announced cheerfully. "And I am making lasagna! Max's special recipe."

Tim hummed in response, grinning back at the speedster.

"So are you two going to eat me out of house and home by the end of tomorrow, or?"

Kon shot Tim a smirk. "Depends."

"Ugh, Kent! I meant food!"

Conner laughed, rinsing one last dish before drying his hands, walking over and pulling Tim up against his front.

"I never said that wasn't what I meant, did I?"

"No. . . But with you there's always some kind of innuendo."

Kon huffed in mock annoyance, before ducking his head and gently kissing Tim a few times. Tim tilted his face up and obliged, wrapping his arms around Kon's neck.

"I missed you," Kon mumbled lightly, his hands sneaking up Tim's soft cotton shirt that may or may not have belonged to Kon at some point.

"I missed you too," Tim responded instinctually, not really realizing exactly how true that was.

"Then why didn't you let us come sooner?" Bart's voice asked and then he was slipping between their arms, sandwiching himself between them.

Tim laughed, giving the pouting Bart a few kisses, turning him from pouty Bart to smiley Bart.

"Because I didn't want you guys getting sick."

"Tim we literally can't."

"Did you confirm that?"

"Yeah. I called Lex and asked. And you know as well as I do that Bart can't get sick from these things."

Tim sighed, looking down at Bart, then up at Kon. "Well either way, it's too late now."

Once the lasagna was in the oven, Bart made Tim help him finish cleaning, sweeping floors and dusting things, meanwhile Kon just sat by and gave unhelpful commentary and got occasionally whacked with cleaning supplies. Once the apartment was properly cleaned, and feeling much better, they decided to properly move Bart and Kon into Tim's room, even though they had stated they'd probably be leaving to get more clothes and such. And probably their dogs.

Tim sat on his bed and watched them unpack bathroom supplies and clothes and other various personal items. Phone chargers got plugged in his few remaining wall outlets and things got shoved into previously neat areas.

"Were you really gonna stay here all by your lonesome?" Bart asked, flopping down onto the bed next to Tim and idly bumping his thigh with his knee.

"It wouldn't have been forever, Bart. I was probably gonna go to the manor eventually."

"Ew, and be around your brothers?"

"They are my family, Bart."

"I know but still. . . "

Tim chuckled and shook his head fondly, moving to lay partially over Bart and softly kiss him.

"Wait, is Keystone even in quarantine yet?"

"Uhhh." Bart grinned sheepishly.

"Bartholomew!"

Bart just giggled a little. "I'm sorry, but I wanted to come too!"

Tim just shook his head and then dropped it to Bart's chest, laying on him and listening to his breathing.

"Hey, this looks like a cuddle pile in the making."

Both of them groaned when Kon flopped - gently - on top of Tim.

"Kon you big lug! Get off!" Tim whined, pushing up on his hands and knees, trying to dislodge Kon, who didn't move.

"Why, I thought you liked cuddle piles?" Kon giggled out, nuzzling at Tim's neck and causing him to squeak.

"Not when I'm being squished!"

Kon gave an over dramatic groan, but moved, rolling and pulling them both on top of him. It took a bit of squirming before they were comfortable, one on either side of Kon, heads on his shoulder, hands clasped on top of his stomach. They laid there and chatted idly, with no concern for anything that might interrupt their lives.

"Bart the oven is going off."

And just like that, Bart was gone. A couple seconds passed, then he was back, snuggling right up against Kon again.

"Where were we?"

Both Kon and Tim just started laughing.

Once dinner was ready, they sat on the sofa and binged a couple episodes of Broadchurch before settling into another cuddle pile. Their default form was cuddle pile. Then eventually Bart got bored with sitting still, so they turned on Mario Kart, played a few normal rounds to watch Kon and Bart suffer, then Tim turned on the mod he had made to make the game go super fast.

He had learned not to watch the screen while this was happening. That's how you got eye damage.

"I'm gonna go do a little patrolling," Kon said, standing after Bart had beat him, again.

"Oh. Okay. Be careful, give a call if you need any help," Tim said, looking up from his laptop.

"Yeah, if I need anything, I'll call Bart."

"Kon."

"Hey, you're grounded, remember?"

Tim sighed, stretching up so Kon could kiss him. Kon chuckled and did so, then bent over the back of the sofa to kiss Bart, before disappearing into the bedroom to change. Then he called a goodbye on the way out the window. Tim and Bart looked at each other.

"So what are we doing then?"

Tim shrugged vaguely and looked back at his laptop.

"Well I'm gonna keep playing my game then."

"Okay."

Bart left him alone for a solid twenty minutes, which was a bit of a record for him, then he was tugging on Tim's laptop, trying to steal it.

"Yes, Bart?"

"I wanna cuddle."

"Cuddle?"

Bart's silence cause Tim to look over, and found he was pouting. Tim chuckled and saved his files, setting the laptop on the floor, then moving so his back was on an armrest, and opened his arms for Bart. Bart practically dove forwards, laying between Tim's legs, head on his chest, arms around his stomach. Tim chuckled and adjusted a bit for his own comfort, then let himself relax with Bart.

Eventually they turned on a movie and just laid together, idly chatting. There would be plenty of time for work later, Tim decided. But for now, he'd spend time with Bart. He may be stuck with these two for months before restrictions laxed, but he would take every moment he could, just to spend time with them while he could.

Kon got back after a few hours, stumbling back through the window, and giving them a grin, but he didn't come over, just walked away into the bathroom, leaving the scent of soot and acid in his wake.

"He's stinky," Bart remarked, still laying on Tim's chest.

"Hmmn, stinky boy."

Bart sniggered. Tim had, at some point, set his laptop on Bart's ass and was still working. Was it the most effective or romantic? No. But Bart didn't mind and it was keeping Tim from getting bored.

Then his phone started ringing.

"Bart, grab that for me please?"

Bart quickly grabbed the phone from the coffee table before immediately settling back into place.

"Yello?"

"Hey, Timmy."

"Hi Dick, what's up?"

"Nothing, just wanted to check in and see how things were going with you."

Tim glanced down at Bart.

"I'm okay."

"Yeah? Just hanging out and working on cases, I assume?"

"Yeah, I'm working on that March case."

Dick hummed from across the line.

"Well, are you sure you don't want to come to the manor?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Honestly I'm surprised you're there. I thought you'd be with Wally?"

There was a pause.

"I was going to, but he got directly exposed the day before he was supposed to come down, and he didn't want to risk it until he discovered if speedsters could actually catch it."

"Hmmn, I have it on good authority they can't."

"Is that so?"

"Yup."

"They're there with you, aren't they?"

Tim just grinned, even though Dick couldn't see it. His brother laughed.

"Tim, you scoundrel."

"Listen, I told them no, they wouldn't listen to me, and then when they showed up, it was too late because Bart like, immediately kissed me."

"Hell yeah I did."

Dick just laughed again. Tim could envision him fondly shaking his head.

"So, I'll let you go then, I'm sure you guys have some catching up to do, if you know what I mean."

"Oh my god, shut up," Tim laughed out, even as he started playing with Bart's hair.

"Just speaking the truth!"

"Goodbye, Dick."

"Bye, Timmy! Love you, stay safe!"

"You too!"

Tim hung up the phone and let it fall to the ground beside the sofa.

"Oh good, you're off. I didn't want to come do this with your brother still on the phone."

Tim tilted his head back to see a shirtless Kon standing over him, grinning, hair still dripping slightly from his shower. He bent down and deeply kissed Tim. Tim gave a surprised noise and reached a hand up, resting it on Kon's jaw. When he pulled away, leaving Tim breathless, he just grinned mischievously, then moved so he was closer to Bart.

"Bartie."

"Hmmn?" When the ginger picked his head up, Kon kissed him the same.

Bart just grinned at him after, and put his head back on Tim's chest.

"Do you guys want a snack, because I'm starving."

Tim watched Kon walk away, and just had to laugh.

It was lucky the three of them were huge cuddlers, because otherwise they would not have fit in Tim's queen sized bed. Not with Kon's huge shoulders. After their snacks, Bart had to literally steal Tim's laptop, and then Kon decided to carry him to the bathroom to get ready for bed, instead of just letting him walk.

As the three of them laid in bed, a few minutes later, more focused on lazily kissing then actually sleeping, Tim decided that if he was going to be quarantined anywhere, being in his apartment with his amazing, dumb, loving boyfriends couldn't be the worst solution. And it was, by far, preferable over going to the manor. So he would happily keep his mouth shut and let them fret over him. Because he loved them. And they loved him.

@core-disaster-week-2020 originally written for @unknownunseenunheard !!

#timkonbart week #core disaster week #core disaster #timkonbart #tim drake #conner kent #bart allen #covid #covid 19 #pandemic #covid pandemic #covid quarantine #dick grayson #queerbutstillhere writes

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queerbutstillhere · 4 years

Text

For @unknownunseenunheard

- You can't come over tomorrow.

~ what do you mean? "Can't"?

- Gotham is on quarantine. Mandatory. Only medical personel allowed out. Hell, even the JL grounded us.

• I'm seeing can't, but hearing "help me please"

- guys. This is serious.

• for you, maybe. Timmie, we can't get sick from Covid. Kon is alien, and my metabolism is just too fast for it.

- Bart..

~ he's right, Tim.

- Do not encourage him, Kon.

- you two are not allowed to come.

Tim sighed, staring at his laptop monitor. He had been stuck in quarantine for three days now. Alone in his apartment. He could probably suit up and hightail it across town to get to the manor if he wanted, but bring quarantined alone sounded far more appealing then bring quarantined in the manor with his siblings. Dick would probably drag him into nightly board (read: bored) games, Bruce would be constantly trying to bond, Damian would probably never stop insulting him. Duke and Cass would probably be fine, but Duke was easily roped into Dick's shenanigans, and Cass had that habit of creeping up on you.

Amusingly, Tim had seen a headline from Star City about Red Hood and Arsenal highjacking a supply truck full of toliet paper and medical supplies and redistributing it among the poor and homeless, as well as stealing from some stores and making care packages for the homeless.

But now, his idiot boyfriends, severly upsetted by the fact that their Thursday date night had been cancelled, were texting and calling him non-stop, trying to convince him to let them come, finding out if he needed anything ("do you have food?" "Yes, Kon." "I'm talking real food, Tim. Not some Rice Krispies and a few boxes of cereal." "Conner."), and constantly fretting over him. Did he mention they kept whining about missing date night? Well they did. Even the suggestion that they could still hang out with each other didn't appease them. ("But we need our Robin! Our birdie!")

So he really shouldn't of been surprised to hear his door open on Thursday evening.

But yet, he was.

"Oh, I'm so scared," a chipper voice said, with a laugh.

"Bart?!" Tim exclaimed, half in shock and anger.

Standing in the entry way of his apartment was Bart Allen and Conner Kent. Conner was carrying several bags of groceries, and Bart had a couple jugs of milk and juice.

"What are you two doing?!" Tim hissed, glaring.

"Uh, visiting, duh?"

Bart zipped to the fridge, putting up his jugs, and then dumping a backpack that Tim hadn't noticed earlier onto the floor.

"Bart," Tim said, his tone dropping.

He noted Kon was also carrying a duffel bag. The man just smiled and then turned to walk into the kitchen.

"Nonono, I know what's going on here, you two aren't staying."

"Why not? We can't get it, and you're just gonna . . ." Bart motioned at the messy living room. "Besides, what if we quarantine ourselves with you."

"Well, because! Because. . . " Tim scowled at him.

He was starting to lose his energy to argue. And he was getting pretty lonely.

"And also, now if you need something, one of us can just zip over to metropolis and pick it up, or go do laundry at Clark and Lo's," Kon called from the kitchen.

"And if you do get sick! You'll have us to look after you!" Bart exclaimed, zipping over and kissing Tim before he could protest.

Tim glared at him, then at Conner, who had moved to the doorway. They both just grinned at him.

"Fine. Fine! You can stay!"

Bart whooped and kissed Tim again.

"Okay, first things first. You need to take a shower, man," Bart told him, wrinkling his nose. "Or else no cuddles."

Tim, touch starved as always, found himself immediately hating that idea.

"Also, we need to clean this place up. So, you go shower and brush your teeth and stuff, Kon and I will clean up and start supper!"

Tim huffed at him, but obeyed, heading towards the bathroom, stopping by Conner first to give him a quick kiss.

He went through the bedroom first, snagging some clean clothes, and then went into the bathroom, he quickly stripped and showered, making sure to clean his hair throughly, he shaved when he got out, and quickly brushed his teeth as instructed, because frankly, he didn't remember the last time he had done that. When he got back out, admittedly feeling a little better, he noted Bart and Kon's bags on his bed. He just sighed and shook his head, walking back to the main room. He could already smell the tomatoey scents of Italian food, and wondered what all those two had actually brought with them. There was some form of pop music playing, and he could hear Bart happily singing along to it, Kon chiming in occasionally with the choruses. Tim chuckled and looked around the living room. They had cleaned up trash and dishes and fixed the pillows on the sofa. The curtains had been opened, and a candle was burning on the coffee table. Tim walked over and leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching Bart dart around and cook, while Kon washed dishes.

"This that hot girl bummer anthem. Turn it up and throw a tantrum~" Bart sang, doing a little dance as he darted from the fridge back to the stove, throwing a few things into a sauce.

"What are you making?" Tim asked softly, but they both heard him.

"Hey! He's clean!" Bart announced cheerfully. "And I am making lasagna! Max's special recipe."

Tim hummed in response.

"So are you two going to eat me out of house and home by the end of tomorrow, or?"

Kon shot Tim a smirk. "Depends."

"Ugh, Kent! I meant food!"

Conner laughed, rinsing one last dish before drying his hands, walking over and pulling Tim up against him.

"I never said that wasn't what I meant, did I?"

"No. . . But with you there's always some kind of innuendo."

Kon huffed in mock annoyance, before ducking his head and gently kissing Tim a few times.

"I missed you," Kon mumbled lightly, his hands sneaking up Tim's soft cotton shirt that may or may not have belonged to Kon at some point.

"I missed you too," Tim responded instinctually, not really realizing exactly how true that was.

"Then why didn't you let us come sooner?" Bart's voice asked and then he was slipping between their arms, sandwiching himself between them.

Tim laughed, giving the pouting Bart a few kisses.

"Because I didn't want you guys getting sick."

"Tim we literally can't."

"Did you confirm that?"

"Yeah. I called Lex and asked. And you know as well as I do that Bart can't get sick from these things."

Tim sighed, looking down at Bart, then up at Kon. "Well either way, it's too late now."

While their dinner was cooking, they finished cleaning up the apartment, got the two of them moved into the bedroom properly, and then fell in a tangled mess on the sofa to wait for dinner. They ate while watching a movie, and Tim did have to admit, the lasagna was really good. After their movie, they played some video games, and then Kon left to do a little patrolling for Tim while he worked on some cases and Bart just did whatever it was Bart did.

It was lucky the three of them were huge cuddlers, because otherwise they would not have fit in Tim's queen sized bed. Not with Kon's huge shoulders. After Kon got back and showered, Bart had to literally steal Tim's laptop, and then Kon had to carry him to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

#i cant believe you got me to write a corona thing #curses #the things i do for family #timkonbart #tim drake #conner kent #bart allen #corona quarantine #quarantine fics #omg they were quarantined #queerbutstillhere #queerbutstillhere writes

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kgraces · 4 years

Text

Famine

A follow-up to Tire Iron and Surprise Siblings. Also available on Ao3!

Tim’s life used to be silent. He moved around his own house—not a home, never a home—like a ghost. That house was more of a mausoleum than a place for living, breathing people to occupy. Tim always felt like just another relic his parents had dug up somewhere and left behind on a shelf to gather dust. He grew up alone, and the most affection he’d ever received as a young child was a pat on the head when he behaved himself at a high-society function.

Dick Grayson had been the exception. He gave Tim his first hug, and then Tim watched as the boy’s life fell, fell, fell apart before his eyes. And then Batman swooped in, and Tim’s life changed, just a little. He spent the next few years scouring the news for any reports on either of them, and years later, when six-year-old Tim Drake met Dick Grayson again at a gala—a framed picture wrapped neatly in cheery Christmas colors tucked tightly in his grip—he was surprised to be remembered. Dick had given him a hug that night, too. His second hug ever.

When he was nine, he found out Robin’s secret identity, and he kept quiet. He would never want to put Dick Grayson at risk. The older boy was just so nice, and Tim idolized both the acrobat and the vigilante. He snuck out at night—not that anyone was ever there to notice, anyways—and followed Batman and Robin’s adventures. Sometimes, feeling more like a ghost than a person had its benefits, and being able to follow his heroes around without being noticed was definitely one of his favorites. He was a silent little shadow, a whisper in the night breeze, a lonely little boy who went four more years after that gala without a third hug.

Then, Tim met Jason, and his life stopped being silent. For the first time ever, he had people who cared about him—people who weren’t half a world away. It was strange and new, but it was wonderful. Dick and Jason became his older brothers, and Tim loved them fiercely. Dick and Jason seemed to love him fiercely back, and it was so different from anything Tim had ever experienced before.

Dick was visiting again; he’d been coming back to Gotham more and more often since he met Tim and Jason. He immediately scooped Tim into a hug when he got back to the manor, sweeping him up into his arms so Tim’s toes didn’t even touch the ground. A laugh bubbled up from Tim’s chest, and he leaned into the hug, excited to see his oldest brother. Dick didn’t even bother to set him down, he just moved Tim into a piggyback carry, so he could walk and let Tim cling to him at the same time.

“Hey Alf, I’m home!” He called out, making his way into the kitchen. Jason sat at the counter, working on homework, and he glanced up at the sound of Dick’s voice. He flashed a grin at Tim and Dick before turning his attention back to algebra. Alfred glanced over his shoulder, elbow-deep in dishwater, and offered the boys a warm welcome. Tim’s arms were still looped around Dick’s neck, his face buried in his older brother’s shoulder.

“How’s your homework going, Jay?” Tim asked softly. He still wasn’t used to needing to speak loud enough for other people to hear him, but he was working on it. Jason smiled up at Tim, who was peeking over Dick’s shoulder, his pale blue eyes wide and curious.

“It’s going fine, Timbit,” he said. “But it’d go a lot faster if my genius little brother would help me out.” He stuck his tongue out, and Tim laughed.

“You’re really smart,” he said cheerfully. “You can do it!”

“Yeah,” Dick said, ruffling Jason’s hair and snagging a few cookies from the plate Alfred left on the counter. “And after you finish up here, you can join us for a movie marathon. How does that sound?” Jason’s eyes lit up, and he nodded, turning back to his homework with renewed vigor. Dick snorted, sending a conspiratorial look to Tim.

They made their way to the theater room, and Dick dropped Tim on one of the huge couches, taking the space next to him a moment later. Tim immediately curled into Dick’s side, leeching off his warmth and the feeling of having someone nearby. Dick’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, drawing him closer.

“I’m glad you’re with us, Timmy,” Dick said. His voice was full of affection and sadness, and the oddness of the tone made Tim glance up at him, confused. Dick caught his look and offered him a small smile. “I just wish we’d found you sooner, is all.”

“Because of my parents?” Tim asked, already seeing the answer in Dick’s eyes. It wasn’t a surprise when Dick nodded in response, but it made Tim frown, all the same. “Jason is the one who deserved better parents. Mine provided for me, right?”

“Not completely,” Dick said, brushing a hand through Tim’s hair. The sadness still didn’t creep out of his eyes. “They left you alone, Timmy, and no kid deserves to be left all alone. Kids—especially you and Jason—deserve lots of love.”

Tim bit his lip. He wasn’t sure he completely agreed with Dick. Of course Jason needed them, but he wasn’t sure how he fit into that picture. He’d been fine on his own—been loved by his parents, even at a distance. His needs were met, but somehow, Bruce had won custody over him. Tim knew about neglect, from an academic standpoint, but he didn’t understand why his parents needed to be there with him when he could take care of himself just fine. It didn’t make sense to him. Dick must have sensed his churning thoughts, because he pulled Tim into his lap.

“Tim,” he said, expression serious but still brimming with affection. “Material needs and emotional needs are equally important.” He watched as Tim melted into the hold, and he had to fight back the urge to squeeze him tight and never let go. “Like hugs, for example,” he said. “People need physical affection, or they run the risk of suffering from touch starvation.”

Tim’s eyes flashed with understanding. He looked down at his hands, twisting his fingers together. The puzzle pieces began to settle into place, forming the bigger picture for him to see and understand.

“Oh,” he said quietly. He hesitated for a moment, debating whether or not he should put a voice to his thoughts. “Did you know that, until I moved in, you were the only person who’d ever hugged me?”

Dick’s heart broke, shattered into a million pieces in his chest. He made a soft, wounded sound and pulled his baby brother closer. He didn’t bother trying to stop the tears from falling onto the top of Tim’s head.

“I’m so sorry, Timmy,” he crooned. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Tim said, voice almost too quiet to be heard, even with their closeness. “I went from being able to count on one hand—with fingers left over—how many hugs I’ve ever gotten to getting more than that every single day.” He patted Dick’s arm, wanting to offer some small comfort to his big brother. “I’m really glad I’ve got you guys now.” He paused for a moment. “Is that why you and Jason are always giving me hugs?”

“Absolutely,” Jason’s voice replied from the doorway. “Finally figured us out?” He asked, moving to join them on the couch. He curled up as close as he could to Dick and Tim. Tim reached out a hand, which Jason took. He was shaking a little, but he trusted his older brothers to keep him steady.

“I’m not used to it,” Tim admitted. “But, it’s really nice. My parents didn’t like it when I asked for comfort, even when I was little. I started having really bad nightmares after that night at the circus, and I think I annoyed them by constantly asking to sleep in their bed or for a hug. They took a six month trip a week after.”

Jason gritted his teeth, anger sparking to life in his eyes. It died as soon as he met Tim’s steady gaze, and his shoulders slumped. He hated Tim’s parents for treating him like he was little more than a shiny bauble to show off when they needed to impress people. They didn’t see Tim, the brilliant, dorky kid who loves Alfred’s scones and Star Wars, the kid who can talk circles around Jason about the most random, specific topics. Jason didn’t think he could ever forgive Tim’s parents for starving Tim of the love he deserved. He knew Dick and Tim felt the same about his own parents, and he and Tim hurt for Dick’s loss, too.

Jason thought that’s the way a family should be, even if he never had it for himself until he stumbled his way into the Waynes’ lives. Tim didn’t seem to fully understand it yet, but they were working on it. Tim had been starved his whole life, and it was up to Jason and Dick to show him just how much he deserved. Tim’s grip on his hand wavered a little, fingers trembling, and Jason sent him a reassuring smile in response to the unasked question. No, he wasn’t going to let go. Tim smiled back, relaxing back against Dick’s chest.

“Can we stay like this for a little while?” Tim asked, a warble of hesitation in his voice. Dick and Jason exchanged a pained look. Tim was still so uncertain, but he was trying.

“Of course we can, Timmy,” Dick said. He threaded his fingers through Tim’s hair, smoothing out the tangles.

“Thank you,” Tim said, and the sincerity in his tone was painful to hear.

“Anytime, Timbit,” Jason said, drawing himself as close to his little brother as he could. Ordinarily, he’d shy away from so much close contact; years living with Willis Todd had taught him to avoid being within fist’s reach, but they both needed to learn how to give and accept what most people took for granted: hugs and hair-ruffles and having other people there for them. Tim, perceptive as ever, seemed to catch onto Jason’s line of thinking and squeezed his hand.

They fell quiet, and it wasn’t quite contentment, but it was something inching closer to it, little by little. For Tim, it was enough. It was more than he’d ever dared hope for, and it was something incredibly new and precious. Having other people around him, not walking around in his own home like a shadow or a forgotten relic, wasn’t something he was used to, yet. But he was learning. He was getting used to being able to rely on other people, for other people to rely on him.

He wasn’t like Dick or Jay. He still technically had parents, but now he had a family. His mom and dad had given him anything but their time. Dick and Jay were there for him, and even when they were busy, they always made him feel noticed and appreciated. He settled in Dick’s hold, one hand still tightly clinging to Jason’s. He drank in the touch and the warmth like he was dying of thirst.

He had brothers—brothers he loved with all his heart. And as difficult as it was to really let himself believe it, he knew they loved him back.

#dc #BatFam #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #my writing #batman

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bat-losers-inc · 4 years

Text

Kintsugi: Chapter 11

Summary: Final Crisis/Red Robin AU. Dick admits Tim to a psychiatric facility after Bruce is lost in time. Jason finds him suffering at the hands of a Scarecrow-copycat and breaks him out. While safe in Jason’s apartment, Tim still struggles with panic attacks and drug withdrawal. At a loss for what to do, Jason calls Roy Harper.

Pairings: Jason Todd & Tim Drake, Jason Todd & Dick Grayson, Roy Harper & Jason Todd.

- - - -

Tim stood in the kitchen and spun Jason’s burner phone around in quick circles on the countertop. He glanced up at Jason who was leaning against the other side of the counter, trying — and failing— to look casual. Between them, the clock on the wall ticked out the seconds in its endless rhythm.

Tim sighed. “I’m calling him again.”

He reached for the phone, but not before Jason slapped his hand down over it. “You’ve already called him twice in an hour. Maybe give it a little longer, yeah?”

“He could already be on a flight back to Star City.”

“He can’t leave here without picking up his stuff first.”

“Yes,” Tim countered. “I’m pretty sure he can.”

He gestured toward the living room couch where Roy had recently been bunking. A duffel bag rested against a stack of folded blankets on one end of the couch. “He packed light to begin with. I don’t think he’s gonna miss a few pairs of clothes and a travel toothbrush.”

Other than that there was no evidence that Roy ever lived here. It served as another reminder of how easily he could lose this lifeline— how Roy could step out that door one day, not return, and who would Tim turn to then? Jason? Well… yes, there was always Jason— would always be Jason. At least that he was getting more and more certain of with each passing day.

Jason held up his hands, placatingly. “Look, all I’m trying to say is that I don’t think we want to come off as desperate right now.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “We are desperate. I sure as shit don’t know the first thing about safely tapering off benzodiazepine. Jury’s still out on if you do.”

Jason’s expression tightened. “Now that’s just rude.”

He didn’t doubt that Jason could step up to the plate, take a crash course in drug treatment and recovery, and help him through it. It was the steep learning curve he was afraid of and the trial and error that went with it.

“Well, not for nothing, Jason, but if you get it wrong I could die.” They locked eyes and held each other's gaze in what seemed to be the world’s longest, and most judgemental, staring contest. Finally, Jason pulled his eyes away.

“You know what? Nope. We’re not doing this.” He grabbed the phone off the counter and shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans.

Tim trailed him as he made his way out of the kitchen and headed for the garage. He called out at his retreating back, “Not doing what? Being realistic about this situation?”

“No,” Jason countered over his shoulder, still moving quickly through the rooms of his safehouse. “Turning on each other the second things get difficult and forgetting we’re in this together.”

Jason pushed open the door to the garage and Tim caught it behind him before it could swing shut in his face. “Whose we?”

“You, me, and Roy. We’re a team.”

Tim came up short, taking a moment to process that. He watched Jason from the top of the stairs as he messed around in a container, continuing his speech all the while. “We owe it to him to have a little faith and to give him some time to come back to us.”

“But what if he doesn’t—”

“Don’t think about that right now.”

Tim threw up his hands. “You say that like it’s so goddamn easy!”

“Give him time to call or come home, Tim. Until then, bristle brush or socket wrench?”

“What?” asked Tim. “What are we even doing out here?”

Jason smiled. “We’re gonna get my bike operational again. Take it apart, clean it, upgrade it if you’re still offering.”

Tim scowled. He knew what Jason was doing— trying to distract him with a project. If he really wanted him to get into a project he might let him get a head start on tracking down Bruce through all of human history instead of making him do manual labor. “I thought you were too poor to pay for upgrades.”

Jason shrugged and flipped an oil rag over one shoulder. “Eh, I’ll figure out something.”

Tim was beginning to think that was Jason’s approach to life.

“C’mon,” Jason wagged the bristle brush at him, smiling. “It might actually be fun.”

Tim descended the stairs and snatched the brush out of his hand. “You need to get out more if you think this is fun.”

Jason chucked a spare rag at him, hitting him square in the chest. “Wow, look who’s talking!”

Tim’s lips twitched into a smile.

He’d feared that hanging out with Jason would only be awkward— both of them too aware of their differences in age and personality. He was afraid that when reduced to casual small talk they’d suddenly realize how little they actually knew about each other. Eight years as “brothers”, coming together in blood feuds, stakeouts, and many dangerous missions and what did they really have to show for it? A couple of family photos, cell numbers saved in each other’s contacts list, and a handful of books shared throughout the years and forgetfully never returned.

But, despite his concerns, their time in the garage started casually enough as they shuffled around performing their own individual tasks. Tim laid down the tarps and placed the bike on its side. Jason stripped down to his undershirt despite the cold of the garage and put on a playlist jam-packed with Joan Jett and Blondie hits.

It was easy.

Before Tim knew it they had the bike broken down, all of its pieces spread on the tarp around them. The engine and some of the other larger pieces were pushed off to the side, a project for another day.

“Hey, Tim?” Jason said as he polished a tail light, “You know those emancipation papers you had Bruce sign.”

Tim looked up sharply from the exhaust pipe he’d been cleaning. “Yeah?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about something that you said earlier… about how Dick and I were using you to put each other down. You were right. I first took those papers because I remembered how worried you were at the diner, how you just wanted to file them and get your independence back. But when Dick was standing here telling me how shitty a brother I’ve been to you, I’d be lying if I said I did it for selfless reasons alone.”

Jason placed the tail light down on the ground and stared at his dirty hands. Tim just watched him, listening.

“I did want to throw those papers back in his face,” Jason continued. “I wanted to prove to him that I wasn’t the only one who didn’t need this family and their judgment. That I wasn’t the only one who could separate from the pack— that I wasn’t alone.”

“Jason,” Tim started, but already his words failed him, his tongue sitting as heavy as his heart inside his chest. What could he say to such a confession? Was it enough to say I understand? About how Jason had tried and failed so many times to come back into the fold that when he was presented with someone else who also wanted to cut that cord, he couldn’t help but encourage them to pick up the scissors. If only because two black sheep might then be able to make a little family of their own.

Was it selfish to be so lonely? To want someone who didn’t keep a strike count of your past mistakes, who said, I choose you as my family— just as you are. Tim didn’t think so.

“I don’t think you should file those papers, Tim. Because, if you do, you can’t take it back.”

“If I don’t, how am I supposed to live my life the way I want to? With no money and no ability to make my own decisions?”

“It might not be such an either-or situation… Dick and I came to a truce of sorts last night.”

Tim blinked. “What?”

Jason shook his head with a smile. “Yeah, don’t ask. But, I think if you give him time to think things through now that he got a full picture of the situation, he won’t petition the judge to extend the psych hold. As for unfreezing your bank accounts… I have a feeling he’s only going to do that once you’re through the worst of your detox and he’s certain that you won’t blow your money on feeding your high again. And he’s going to want to see that with his own eyes.”

“So, you’re saying, eventually I’m going to have to go see him and talk things out?”

Jason shrugged. “I can’t hide you from him forever, Tim.”

“Yeah, I know.” Tim fiddled with the exhaust pipe he still held in his hands. He wiped at the remaining grime with a few half-hearted sweeps of the oilcloth. “Hey, Jason?”

Jason glanced up at him through his bangs. “Yeah?”

“For all those times I never said it… thank you.”

Jason was quiet for a while with an unreadable expression stretched across his face. Finally, he stood up and offered Tim a hand. “It’s getting late. How about we see what we have for dinner?”

Tim let him pull him up off the floor. He glanced behind him at the garage door as Jason brushed the dust off his pants. “What about Roy?”

Jason put his hand on Tim’s shoulder and gave it a faint squeeze. “Cmon.”

Tim had no idea if Jason didn’t hear his question or purposely ignored it. The time was beginning to creep into the early evening hours and he had a feeling they were both thinking the same thing, even if nobody wanted to admit it— if Roy didn’t come back soon, he probably wouldn’t be coming back at all.

Tim didn’t think he had the courage to ask again, so instead, he trailed Jason back inside to help with dinner.

But, it turned out that Jason didn’t need much help in the kitchen, so Tim settled for keeping him company while he went about his business. He leaned next to the stove and watched as Jason sauteed sweet potatoes, onions, and strips of chicken together in a pan— a meal that smelled good enough to make even Tim’s usually nauseated stomach grumble. It had been a while since Tim had eaten a full meal. And this morning or well... afternoon was no different with both of them too tired and edgy to make up their minds on lunch. So Jason had made them both toast, which they ate standing around the counter staring at Jason’s burner phone, waiting for it to ring.

Jason pointed his spoon off to the right. “Go into the far cabinet and get some plates. This should be ready in a few minutes.”

Tim was lifting down plates when he heard the sound of a door closing. He turned to find Jason with his back to the stove, staring into the living room at Roy’s sudden appearance back in their lives.

Tim clutched the plates closer to his chest. “You’re back. I mean, um, I’m happy you came back.”

“Yeah.” Roy barely seemed to hear him. He was too busy watching Jason watch him, a whole silent, unreadable exchange happening before Tim’s eyes.

“Can we talk?” asked Roy. It clearly wasn’t directed at Tim and Roy’s single-minded disregard of his presence struck him like a slap to the face.

Tim turned and placed the stack of plates on the counter, wishing he had a corner to hide in.

What a fucking idiot he was. In Roy’s mind, they were probably the farthest thing from friends and Tim couldn’t really blame him for thinking that. It was true. They were practically strangers. And after the stunt he pulled last night, Roy could confidently call him a stranger and an asshole.

“Sure,” Jason replied. “Tim, could you watch the food for me?”

Tim half-turned and accepted the wooden spoon out of Jason’s hand, managing a weak smile for his benefit. “Yeah, sure.”

Their footsteps faded out of earshot and then Tim was greeted with the slam of the garage door. He turned and stood alone in Jason’s kitchen, his only companions the sizzle of the skillet and his own troublesome thoughts. Of all the scenarios that Tim had prepared himself for, he’d never considered that Roy might show up again only to break it off officially.

Tim hurled the wooden spoon into the sink and sank heavily against the countertop.

We’re going to lose him and it’s all my fault.

- - - -

“New project?” Roy asked, toeing at the loose bike parts spread out on the loading dock floor.

Jason watched him as he picked up a piece and examined it. He leaned back against the workbench and crossed his arms tightly, afraid that if left to their own devices one of his hands would pick up a nearby wrench and chuck it at Roy’s stupid, thoughtless head.

“So, you don’t answer your phone anymore, is that it?”

“I was at Blackgate talking to Croc.” said Roy. “You know I can’t bring it into the visitors center with me.”

“And what were you doing for the rest of the day? You had lunch in my safehouse in Old Gotham—at least that hour I can account for since you triggered my security system when you broke in. What about the other ten hours of the day?”

“NA,” Roy replied. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

Jason laughed. “Wow! So you must have hit every NA meeting from Blackgate to Grant Park in that time.”

He clapped slowly so Roy had time to realize what a load of bullshit it was to pull his ‘Narcotics Anonymous is anonymous for a reason’ card right now.

Roy glared at him. “Just get to your point, Jason. I know you have one.”

Yeah, why beat around the bush? “Tim was trying to reach you all day today. He wanted to apologize for last night.”

Roy flicked a tangle of copper hair out of his eyes. “Good. He should apologize for how he acted. He nearly got us all killed.”

Unbelievable, thought Jason. What a goddamn hypocrite. Didn’t he remember all those nights they stayed in shitty apartments in God-knows-where, because he’d blown half their money and left them stranded? Didn’t he remember how Jason always came and pulled him back from the edge — how he stayed up with him as he shivered and puked himself through another withdrawal?

“You want to know what all this was for?” Jason gestured at the array of bike parts on the ground. “It’s because I didn’t know how to stand in that kitchen a moment longer reassuring him that it was all going to be okay when I wasn’t even sure myself.”

Jason shrugged and tilted his head in an attempt to catch Roy’s averted gaze— trying in vain to see past all the angry bullshit between them and find the friend he knew was still in there. “Did you even come back here to help?”

Roy kept his eyes on anything but Jason. “I came to talk to you.”

So, that was Roy code for ‘I haven’t decided yet’. Fantastic. “You should have called first.”

“Why?” asked Roy. “What does it matter if we talk here or on the phone?”

Jason stabbed a finger at the wall behind him. “It matters because of him. I made a deal with that kid to help him find Bruce if he starts to get clean— a deal that I can’t hold up without your help. It matters because— just now— when you walked back into our lives, Tim expected you to stay. I get it if you’re angry at me, but don’t you dare take it out on Tim.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to upset precious Timmy now, would we? Heaven forbid—”

“Stop. ” Jason was in front of Roy in an instant, a lug wrench clutched tightly in his grip. “I know you’re not this much of an asshole to take shots at a kid who just wants your help.”

Roy’s smile was bitter. “There is it. That’s your problem.”

Jason’s breathing was heavy. He could barely make out Roy’s words past the angry thump of blood in his temples. “What?”

“You're always going to choose him over me. Despite all your talk about being the black sheep of the family, you want back in with them so bad. And now you have your chance to prove you deserve it by taking care of Tim.”

Jason tried to put as much conviction as he could muster into his voice as he stared up at Roy’s green eyes. “You’re my family. I chose you as my family— ”

“You chose me as a cheap substitute.”

“This is not a fucking competition!” he snapped, whipping the wrench at the far wall. It struck, taking a chunk out of one of the bricks. Better the bricks than Roy’s head. “You know it isn’t. You know I will always be there for you.”

How long had these thoughts been festering in Roy’s head? Since last night? Longer? They had been together through thick and thin for years. Did Roy really just think it was out of convenience that he stuck around? That he’d just drop him the moment someone else came into his life?

“Really? Because you threw me to the wolves real quick last night when it came down to choosing between me and Tim.”

“I didn’t know that I’d have to choose anybody when I started this!” cried Jason. “We’re supposed to be a fucking team!”

“A team? Jason, a team requires trust. How can I agree to help when I can’t trust you to make decisions that will protect my interests as well as Tim’s?”

“He told you about our deal, right?” Jason turned towards the sound of the voice. “When I agreed to that deal I did it knowing I wasn’t just agreeing to work with him, but with you as well.”

The door at the top of the stairs was ajar, Tim’s frame discernable in the darkening shadows of the unlit hallway.

“Fuck,” Jason sighed, rubbing at his face. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

Roy crossed his arms. “Anyone ever tell you it’s rude to spy on private conversations?”

“I don’t think it counts as spying when I can hear you from all the way down the hall. And I think I’ve heard enough to know that you two come as a package deal, because when left on your own… you’re both kind of shit.”

“Gee, thanks.” Roy's eyes narrowed. “You’re really nailing this whole apology business.”

“Then, let me finish,” said Tim. “I am sorry for what I put you through last night, but we both know my apology alone isn’t going to fix shit. So, I’m here to tell you that I’m willing to do all I can to get clean. From now on our interests are going to be the same.”

Tim slipped into the room, his eyes still trained on Roy. “NA meetings, the twelve steps, I’ll do whatever you tell me to do as long as it helps me get clean and find Bruce because those are things I need. And while I appreciate someone looking out for me— ”

Now he shifted his gaze to Jason. “I don’t need favoritism, nor do I want it. If this is going to work, I can’t have you feeling like you need to choose between us. You just need to choose ‘us’. Okay?”

Jason rubbed at the back of his neck, the skin under his fingers hot with embarrassment and nodded. Looked like some of Tim’s old spunk was coming back after all.

Satisfied, Tim shifted back to Roy. “In case I haven’t made it totally clear yet. I’m not trying to replace you. I’m trying to work with you.”

Roy sighed and carded his hands through his hair. “It’s moments like this that really make me want a drink.”

It was unclear if Roy was talking to them or to himself.

“Would you settle for dinner?” Tim asked. “I set out a plate for you.”

Roy shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. “You really want me to stay, don’t you?”

Tim didn’t even blink. “Yes. You're my sponsor.”

Roy glanced over at Jason and back to Tim. Jason held his breath afraid he was going to jinx everything if he so much as breathed wrong.

“Alright.” Roy sidestepped Tim and climbed the stairs.

Jason’s eyebrows shot up. “Holy fuck, does that mean the dream team’s back together?”

“Don’t call us the dream team,” Roy called out from inside. “There isn’t an earth in all of the multi-verse were we’re somebody’s fucking dream team.”

Jason hooked Tim around the neck as he followed him up the stairs. He ruffled his hair playfully. “Good job, kid.”

#kintsugi #jason todd #roy harper #tim drake #batman #batman fandom #friendship hurt comfort #friendship #hurt comfort #tw drug addiction #tw drug problems #red hood #red robin #Arsenal #agnst #LittleDarlingXOX #bat-losers-inc #myfic

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