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Jason tugs at the hem of his polo shirt. “Alfred, are you sure this is okay?”
“Perfectly acceptable for an afternoon business gathering,” Alfred replies without a moment's hesitation. “Some of your fellow board members are dressed more formally but they may be dining with their parents afterward or have other formal engagements. Some may prefer a suit.”
Alfred wouldn't let him wear something embarrassing without a polite correction when it would have helped. Jason has three different suits in his closet and he only wears one when Alfred insists. The dark red polo shirt and dark grey trousers had felt dressy back in his own room. Here, there are kids his age in suits with a neatly-knotted tie and they look comfortable in a way Jason still isn't. He'd watched them walking up the steps to the main entrance while Alfred drove past the paparazzi and the spectacle. A few other families are taking advantage of the quiet entrance but most of them are out front and don't mind having their picture in the paper all the time. Jason doesn't know if he'll ever be okay with that but he's getting used to all the attention that comes with Bruce as his dad.
“All I need to do is make sure the food isn't too terrible,” Jason says, looking up at Bruce. “Right?”
“You can give it your best effort but it's hard to control a group committed to a bad idea,” Bruce says. “Committees are frustrating like that. It's okay if you don't want to do this, Jason. You can take over my office for the afternoon.”
Jason stands up straighter. He's Robin. A bunch of rich kids are not going to scare him more than the mess with Penguin's hired men last night. For once, having the entire city way too interested in the latest kid Bruce adopted will work in his favor. If anyone in that room doesn't know that he's Bruce Wayne's son, they'll find out fast. It doesn't matter that he's only been adopted for a month now or that he was homeless for a while. As Bruce Wayne's son, Jason has a standing invitation to the Children's Charity Board. The kids of Gotham's biggest fundraisers plan a single event. The kids' choices are final even if the menu is ridiculous.
“I've got this, B,” Jason promises. “You should go before you're late for your own meeting.”
Bruce isn't just on one charity board or committee. Bruce is good at getting people to see reason and directing money where it might do some good. Jason still doesn't understand why some people need to have a party or publicity to donate but Bruce has shown him the numbers about how much more money he's able to donate through sponsoring parties and going to charity events.
Bruce's smile is a tiny flick of his lips that most people would miss. It had taken Jason weeks to trust that he hadn't imagined it. “Would you like me to walk you over to the conference room?”
“No thanks, dad.” Jason's attempt at grimacing doesn't work when he still sounds a little goofy when he says 'dad.' That's okay, though, because Bruce melts a little every time Jason says it.
Jason hesitates. They're in an empty hallway by Bruce's Wayne Foundation office and no one is around to care that Jason has a few more worries. “They're going to know all of the manners stuff.”
“You are very fond of period literature,” Alfred returns placidly. He's going to a meeting, too, or he would have dropped them off at the door. Alfie will be presiding over some sub-committee dedicated to preventing catering disasters at Wayne-sponsored events. Usually, that means making sure nobody's making it more likely that one of Gotham's rogues will crash the party. “If they choose to be rude, you can be sure they know what they're doing, just as you can choose to be polite or rude.”
Three weeks ago, Jason wouldn't have asked, but he trusts them. “What if nobody likes my ideas?”
“It's okay to take it easy, Jason.” Bruce's voice is so gentle. Sometimes, it's all too easy to think why most people would never connect his dad with Batman. “It's your first year participating. It's perfectly acceptable to back up someone with ideas that you like instead of feeling pressured to have an opinion on everything.”
Jason hugs his dad. It helps. So does knowing that he can hug his dad any time that neither one of them is injured or covered in some kind of toxin. “I'm going to try to be polite but if they say stupid rich people shit I am going to call them out.” Jason hides his smile against Bruce's jacket when Alfred clears his throat. “I promise I will try to not call it stupid rich people shit in the room, Alfie.”
Alfred sighs. Jason doesn't have to look to know that Alfred is amused. “See that you describe things accurately, at least. It may help to arrive a few minutes early, Master Jason. That will let you choose a seat you prefer and let people fill in the chairs around you.”
It's good advice and Jason doesn't want to make his dad or his butler/grandpa late for their meetings. He straightens his shirt and stands up as tall as he can. “Ready.”
Jason's burst of confidence lasts until he reaches the table with clip-on name tags set out in neat rows. The name tags aren't bad. The fancy little party hat set out next to each name tag makes Jason want to get out his phone and ask Bruce how on earth people survive in Gotham. Party hats. At an unattended table in Gotham!
“Do you think we should throw them out?” someone asks quietly. “The hats, I mean.”
Jason half-turns. The boy is wearing a suit and a tie, like a lot of the kids down on the building's front steps, but his tie is a bit crooked and his suit jacket is about an inch too short at the wrists. It makes him look less intimidating than the people posing for photoshoots on the stairs in front of the building. He's also staring at the party hats like they're about to explode. Jason approves of the wariness.
“If anyone asks, we can say we thought it was a test,” Jason suggests. “I vote we don't touch them and bundle them all into a garbage bag. I can set them aside and let Bruce know to have someone grab them later.”
As Jason guessed, the kid doesn't look at all surprised when Jason mentions 'Bruce.'
“I'm Jason, by the way. Jason Todd.” Jason holds out his hand.
The kid shakes his hand with a surprisingly good grip for a small kid. Rich people probably learn things like the proper way to shake hands and this kid had clearly been paying attention. “Tim Drake.”
Tim doesn't say anything else as they work together. Jason uses two stick pens like chopsticks to avoid touching the conical hats that people in other cities wouldn't have to worry about. All of the hats go straight into an extra garbage bin. No one brought snacks so they won't need two. No one else is here yet so at least they don't have to persuade someone to give up a party favor.
With the hats dealt with and the garbage bin locked away with Jason's building key, Jason grabs his name tag and heads in to take a seat further away from the door where he won't have his back to people coming in and out. When Tim hesitates, Jason nods to the seat next to him. Jason probably won't know anyone else here and Tim hasn't been bad company yet.
Jason looks over the printed agenda in front of his seat. Everything looks familiar from the group emails they've been exchanging all week and he's hoping they can wrap it up quickly. Bruce promised they can get dinner from a street cart, later. Jason misses the simpler food, sometimes, and it never gets old to watch someone realize that Bruce Wayne just showed up to order dinner. If Bruce likes it, he'll put the food cart on one of his social media pages and the owner of the food truck just might open a restaurant within a year.
The meeting isn't nearly as bad as Jason expects. They all go around the room to make introductions after everyone gets there. No one looks surprised to see him and the honorary chairwoman doesn't seem so bad. She's been sending out most of the emails and doesn't seem to have any favorites at the table when she calls for a vote on which charity the group will support. Jason doesn't argue with donating to one of Gotham's children's hospitals. Bruce already said that they can make a donation to the Gotham Public Library's Crime Alley branch whether or not it won the vote.
Most of the other choices are that easy when they're choosing from a list of pre-approved options. Jason cuts in a few times when the conversation gets a little out of hand and the girl in charge looks happy every time he interrupts an argument. Every time, Tim backs up what Jason says, and then two other quiet kids back up Tim.
Tim doesn't look toward Jason like he wants approval, after, but Jason isn't sure why he'd made that much impression on a stranger. It makes him suspicious enough that when Pink Dress and Navy Blazer really get going in yet another fight, Jason decides to see if Tim agrees with what he has to say or if he wants Jason to like him.
“I think we should go with the chocolate fountain,” Jason says.
A few people look to Tim next. Jason hadn't been the only one to notice Tim quietly backing him up on every previous suggestion.
Tim shakes his head. “There was a chocolate fountain at one of the galas last year. I think it was the one for the art museum. Ice cream sundaes can get messy but at least no one would tip an entire thing of melted chocolate onto a marble floor.”
Sundaes win the day.
Jason leans over during a much politer argument about accent colors. “I wanted to see if you were backing ideas you liked and not just trying to get in good with my dad,” Jason says quietly. It isn't the only side conversation in the room and no one pays much attention.
Tim flushes. “I mean. I wouldn't mind?” His voice sounds a little higher out of nerves or excitement. It's hard to tell past the embarrassment. “Your dad is really cool.”
“My dad's the one that knocked over the chocolate fountain,” Jason retorts drily. Jason had still been homeless during that party but he's heard the story from Dick three times already. Jason won't mind hearing it again.
Tim goes even pinker. “I know. He seems like a really good dad, though, and he didn't yell at anybody when the chocolate got everywhere.”
That's fair. Plenty of people would have yelled even if it was completely their fault. Bruce had found out that someone laced the chocolate with fear toxin (yet another reason to never have something as showy and public as a chocolate fountain at a huge party) and didn't have time to stop it as Batman. Spilling chocolate had distracted everybody and he'd insisted on paying overtime for all the employees that dealt with the mess. They'd all worn gloves the entire time and Batman double-checked that nobody got dosed with fear toxin that night.
“He is a good dad,” Jason admits. He might be a little pink himself, saying it out loud, but Bruce Wayne is his dadnow and it still surprises him sometimes.
Jason turns back to the accent color debate. He's about to add puce to the growing list of possible colors just to see what happens when his watch vibrates.
Jason stays calm. If he'd pushed down on the face of his wrist watch, he'd expect that short vibration confirming that Jason's distress signal was sent out. If Bruce sent it, though, that means that there's trouble and he wants Jason to have warning even if there's no time for a text message.
Seconds later, Jason knows just what his dad was warning him about.
Mad Hatter attempts to burst into the room through the heavy main doors. The doors are quite heavy, though, so Mad Hatter ends up hauling them open slowly before jumping through.
His expressive face falls when he looks around and notices that not one person is wearing a hat.
Mad Hatter's not so bad, in general, and it's even better when he was expecting people to already be under the effects of his latest microchip. Jason usually deals with him as Robin. As Bruce Wayne's son, Jason has fewer options for convincing the others to listen to him. Jason also has to be ready to see Bruce or Batman, because he knows that his dad is on the way.
“What's this?” Mad Hatter's eyes are wide with shock. “None of you are dressed appropriately for the occasion!”
Maybe Jason should have told his dad about the party hats earlier but they were usually harmless even in Gotham. If Hatter was behind every single party favor, even Gothamites would put it together sooner or later.
His dad had sent Jason the alert, though, so all Jason needs to do is keep the room calm. Bruce already knows and he's on his way.
“This isn't a tea party,” Jason says into the silence when Hatter starts to look even more upset. Jason has been meaning to read Alice's Adventures in Wonderland to understand the man's patter a little better but it's hard to prioritize a book he doesn't enjoy as much as so many other books in the private family library. That's going to change as soon as he gets home.
Hatter whirls to focus on Jason. “No. No cups at all,” he says, looking from Jason to the table. It's bare except for copies of the meeting agenda and plain black pens. “No little cakes?”
“Not a one,” Jason says. “We are planning a party, though, if you'd take a seat?”
Hatter thinks about it. Almost every kid at the table is tense and stiff. Tim nods to the open seat next to him and taps the unused agenda with his capped pen. “We're talking about accent colors.” Tim's voice is calm and his hands are steady. “We can read off the list of current suggestions if you like.”
It works. Hatter, changeable as ever, gives up on his plan of finding a room filled with the mind-controlled heirs to Gotham's richest families and chatters about color theory and Lewis Carroll until Batman walks in the door.
Jason plays it cool. Almost everybody at the table tries to be calm about Batman showing up in broad daylight, some more successfully than others. When Batman looks around the room of calm children, he nods to the group before having a quiet word with Hatter. Whatever Bruce says, the Mad Hatter stands up agreeably and pushes in his chair. Hatter's hard to predict but usually responds well to something that he didn't predict. He can be dangerous, sometimes, but usually he's more annoying than anything else.
Batman and Mad Hatter walk out of the conference room together. Batman's kind enough to hold the heavy door for the smaller man. Jim Gordon walks into the room before the door can close. So much for finishing the board meeting, Jason thinks. There's no way any of them are going to be allowed back in the building before the security audit is done. At least they can wrap up the rest by email.
“Is everyone alright?” Jim asks.
Jason hesitates. Jim isn't looking at him and he doesn't want to draw too much attention to himself. Plausible deniability is a fun game, usually, but sometimes it's hard to guess just how much he can rely on his dad's friendship with Jim instead of Batman's stranger friendship with Commissioner Gordon.
“We're fine, Commissioner Gordon,” Tim says. “Someone left party hats on the table, earlier, and Jason and I decided that it was a risky move no matter what.” Tim's smile fades. “I—um—guess we could've said something earlier. I'm sorry.”
“Don't worry about it. Thank you for setting those aside. I get called on party favors that are the real thing at least a few times a week and most are false alarms. Feel free to call and check next time,” Jim says kindly. “Now. None of you are in trouble, so please don't panic, and all of you are allowed and encouraged to let your parents know what happened. Before you leave, I'd like a statement from all of you about what happened here.”
Jason texts Bruce first. Hey, Bruce. I'm okay. You're probably busy with the Wayne Foundation security guys and probably know about the incident already but I am okay and nobody got hurt. Mad Hatter's already in custody. The police want me to say what happened and they'll probably want someone to pick me up.
Bruce doesn't reply. If he'd managed, Jason would want the story later. Jason waits a few seconds while he thinks about how to phrase a message for Alfred.
Hi Alfie. I'm okay and everybody is safe. Mad Hatter crashed the committee meeting. He actually had some great points about accent colors but he's off talking to Batman now. I'm going to give a statement about things soon and I'll ask if you can pick me up. I know Bruce will probably be busy with security things.
If you will be alright for another few minutes, I'll check on your father, Alfred replies.
Jason had wondered just how Bruce suited up so fast. Alfred's help would explain a lot.
I'm fine for longer than a few, promise. I'll let you know when I've given my statement.
Jim and a couple patrol officers focus on the most upset kids first. A couple of the youngest kids held it together while Hatter was at the table with them but they're looking a little panicked and one almost sprints to her dad when he shows up. There are reunions all over the place and quick audio-taped reports not having much more than the kid's name and age and that they hadn't been hurt.
Jason looks around while he waits his turn. Jim isn't rushing toward him and Jason isn't inclined to hurry when Alfred's probably going to help whisk Batman's suit away when his dad is ready to be Bruce again. Most of the older kids are excited about what they might do after their parents pick them up. Stuffy and formal dinners are out, it sounds like, and quite a few want to go somewhere more fun while their parent fusses after a close call.
Tim looks more upset when the cops get near him but being one of the few kids left doesn't seem to make him any calmer. He doesn't look any happier after his concise statement to the police.
Unlike the other kids, Tim doesn't move for the doors after he's done. He goes back to his seat at the conference table. When Jason sits down next to him, Tim doesn't look up from his phone.
“Are your parents on their way?” Jason asks. He's not sure why else Tim wouldn't head out the door like anyone else.
“They're really busy. It would be easier if they'd let me go home by myself.” Tim looks up. “Do you think your dad would drop me off? I live pretty close to you guys and I don't think this has to be a big deal. I'm not scared.”
Tim's right. Most of the kids are putting on a good show but they're shocked from the close call and coming down from adrenaline. Tim isn't afraid. He'd followed Jason's lead and kept calm. He looks more nervous to have someone talk to his parents than he did talking to Mad Hatter.
“I think they'd want your parents' permission before they let Bruce take you.”
Tim does his best to not react but his shoulders drop a little. It's hard to hide in his suit. “I think you're right.” He looks down at his phone again.
Jason can't resist glancing at the screen when Tim starts to tap in another message. Tim has an open group text message to Jack Drake and Janet Drake. When Tim sends the message, it's the latest of several that fill the screen with no reply from his parents.
The last text is the shortest. Can you please call soon?
“Are your parents in a no-phones meeting?” Jason asks. He doesn't look up past the last message.
Tim manages a wavering smile. “They don't usually answer their personal cell phones during the day. I left a voice mail on their work phones, earlier, because those lines don't receive text messages. Their secretary said she'd pass on word if they talk to her first. They should get back to me soon.”
If everything was that easy, Tim wouldn't look so upset. “How long does it usually take for them to stop being busy?” Jason asks. “It's been a while. The cops probably left a message, too, if they weren't getting in touch.”
Tim shrugs and looks down at his phone again.
Making Tim say it might be cruel. Maybe Jason's being too suspicious and looking for cases that Robin can solve when it's just a kid with parents that both work in demanding jobs. Jason wants to be sure, though, because Tim keeps darting glances to the closed conference room doors like he wants to run.
“Tim, can I have a look at your texts?”
Tim hands over his phone without a word. He watches as Jason scrolls up in the group chat. The last message from his parents is over a week old and mentions an itinerary change. Janet wrote that she expected Tim to represent the family well at the children's charity board meeting. Neither parent has said anything in the group chat since. Most previous text messages from his parents are no longer than a few words.
“Tim. Where are they?”
“Andorra. I think.”
Jason tries to keep the judgment out of his tone. “Andorra.” He won't be able to keep his tone bland if he asks why Tim isn't sure which country his parents are in.
By the way Tim curls in on himself, Jason's efforts hadn't worked. “They're self-funded archaeologists so they can take a lot of dig sites on little notice. They don't need to wait for grants to come in so they're the fastest if someone wants a site studied quickly so construction can start back up after an accidental finding. Their schedule is a little hard to predict.”
Jason had been bracing himself for someone to make fun of him for not knowing all of the new society's unspoken rules or for being homeless. He'd been willing to try to laugh off well-meaning comments that made him feel like he didn't belong. Tim looks like he's ready for Jason to ask why Tim isn't in Andorra or any of the many other questions that Jason's going to get answers for eventually. It'd be like the phone, though. Jason thinks that making Tim say it might hurt him.
Maybe this is why Tim had been so serious when he said that Bruce is a good dad. Maybe Tim's own dad doesn't live up to Jason's new father.
“I'll talk to my dad,” Jason promises. “I think I can take care of this.”
It would be easier if Mrs. Mac wasn't visiting her sister in Ireland this week. Tim had been making a not-terrible impression on Bruce Wayne's son (on Robin, not that anyone can know that Tim knows that). Jason had even made sure that Tim wasn't just trying to get on his good side now that Jason's a Wayne. Tim had helped keep everyone calm when Mad Hatter showed up but now he's stuck as the weird kid with parents too busy to answer a text message.
Andorra's only six hours ahead of Gotham if he's remembering the time zones correctly. They should be out to dinner by now. They should be able to text him back.
Tim tries to keep his eyes on his phone when Bruce Wayne shows up. He doesn't usually see Mr. Wayne up close, not when Tim's parents don't bring him to many parties. If Mr. Wayne knows that Tim exists, it's probably just because he looked over who would be at the event with his son. Tim wasn't old enough to join the charity board when Dick was still in Gotham. Now, Mr. Wayne might notice Tim but only as a kid causing a problem.
Jason is happy to see him, though, and looks even happier after talking with Bruce and then Jim Gordon for a couple minutes.
Jason smiles when he crosses the room and stops next to Tim's chair. “You're free, Timbit! Want a ride?”
Tim blinks up at him. “Timbit?”
Jason shrugs. “My brother's fault,” he says easily. “He's all about nicknames and it turns into a habit.”
Robin is talking to him about the first Robin. Tim needs to not overthink that, though, because nobody can know that he knows. “Thank you. I would like a ride home.”
Tim gathers up his papers and stands up. They might end up finishing over email. At least four kids won't be able to come back. Their parents always fuss over them for days straight when there's a minor brush with a Rogue. Having Mad Hatter in the same room will probably get them an extra family vacation. Tim might get a phone call later. Maybe Tim's parents won't be too upset about the repeated text messages when they realize that only sending one would have drawn even more attention.
“Sorry for making you boys wait.”
Tim nearly drops his papers. Mr. Wayne moves quietly. Tim knows that he can, he knows better than most of Gotham, but he hadn't expected Mr. Wayne to come over to them. He hadn't expected Mr. Wayne's voice to sound so kind.
“I was having a few words with the commissioner but most of it can keep,” Mr. Wayne continues. “I'll chat with him again later.”
Mr. Wayne and Jason exchange a knowing look. Tim wonders if that means that Commissioner Gordon doesn't know who they are. Tim isn't supposed to know, though, so he looks away.
“Tim? Bruce Wayne. Bruce? Tim Drake, the kid that needs a ride home,” Jason says casually. “I don't know if you've met.”
“Thank you for helping me get home, Mr. Wayne.”
Bruce Wayne's smile seems a little tired. Maybe the costume changes are a lot of work. Tim doesn't know how he can wear the mask and never have lines show on his face but he looks like an exhausted dad. He doesn't look like Batman even though Tim's been within ten feet of him twice in less than an hour. “It's no trouble at all.”
They leave together from the executive garage. Alfred Pennyworth introduces himself quietly before settling in to drive. Bruce sends a flurry of texts from the passenger seat. Jason and Tim have the town car's back seat to themselves and Tim keeps telling himself to stay calm. Maybe, if they get along, Jason might invite him over sometime. It's probably too much to hope for but it's a harmless daydream. So is the wistful thought that he'd have even more fun riding in the back of Mr. Wayne's other car.
No one says anything and Tim doesn't break the silence. Tim thinks that his phone might have vibrated but when he checks the screen nothing has changed. When he looks up, Jason is looking at him.
“Nothing yet?”
Tim shakes his head. “They might be sleeping. They work twelve-hour days on a lot of important sites and it's hard to get messages through while they're working.”
“How often do they call you after they work those twelve-hour days?” Jason asks.
Tim glances forward. Mr. Wayne doesn't seem to be listening but he's Batman. Tim probably couldn't tell if he was. Mr. Pennyworth looks even calmer than before.
If Tim accidentally starts gossip about his parents, they'll be furious. They're going to be upset enough that they have so many messages to deal with. The police probably left even more than Tim did.
“They check for important voice mails and texts when they have the time.”
Jason nods thoughtfully. “I guess I can understand that. Bruce will leave a message with your nanny, then, to make sure that they get it.”
Tim sits up straighter. He knows he's short for his age but that's ridiculous. “I'm eleven. I don't need a nanny.”
Jason frowns. “Your parents are in Andorra.”
Too defensive. Tim makes himself look more relaxed. “Our housekeeper isn't working today.”
Jason doesn't look any happier. “Then we'll leave a message with her, Tim. Even if she's off duty, we can stick a note on her door.”
Tim isn't supposed to let people ask questions about this. His parents weren't banking on Robin, though, and Tim's never had the chance to practice. Most people assume they don't need to ask him anything.
“I'd rather just go in on my own. I'll pass on a message or put one up for her,” Tim offers helpfully.
Jason doesn't look any happier. “Does she even live in the house with you?”
Tim could try lying but he knows that he has Mr. Wayne's attention, too. Even if he could fool Robin, he won't trick Batman. “No. Usually, Mrs. Mac stops by pretty often, but she's in Ireland right now visiting her sister.”
“You backed me up earlier, Tim.” Jason's voice is gentle. “I want to help you. I'm sorry if it doesn't feel like it. Nobody is supposed to be on their own at eleven. I was and it sucked. I don't want that for anybody.”
Tim can't handle the full weight of Jason's sympathy. It's not at all the same. “You were homeless, though.”
Jason nods once.
“I have a house. I have plenty to eat and it's warm and I'm mature enough to be alone sometimes. It's not a big deal.”
“Tim.” Jason taps the phone that Tim had handed over earlier. He'd thought that the last few texts would prove that his parents responded, usually, but Jason looks far too serious. “Your parents should be around to help when you're in trouble. They should hire someone if they aren't here themselves. We were hoping that maybe they hired someone off-the-books because you can't be left alone when they're in another country. We're stopping at your place long enough to pack a bag. Bruce already talked to the commissioner and someone's probably talking to a judge right now. By the time you're packed, you're going to be in emergency custody, and—”
“No.” The whisper is involuntary. Tim can't hold it back any more than he can stop blinking as Jason calmly describes how much trouble Tim is in. “Please, no, I—”
“You can stay with us, if you want,” Jason interrupts. He looks uncomfortable. “Bruce and Alfred already agreed. Bruce looked into it and he was pretty sure that you didn't have anyone staying with you. I texted my big brother already so he's not surprised again that there's another kid in the house.”
None of that fixes Tim's problem. “I want to go home.”
“You shouldn't be alone, Tim.”
Tim doesn't smile. “I'm safer at home than in foster care, even with the new reforms. I want to go home.”
“I get it,” Jason says kindly. “Believe me, I get it. The streets were better than foster care and being homeless wasn't great. It's better now, though, and you don't have to worry about strangers. You can stay with us. It's safer than being alone.”
“I think that being home by myself is a lot safer than putting on a cape, Robin.”
The car is silent. Completely silent. It takes a few moments for Tim to realize that he'd said the words out loud.
Jason and Bruce and Alfred seem to be having a silent conversation and maybe it isn't too late. Maybe Tim can make something go right today.
“I didn't mean to say that,” Tim says into the quiet. “I mean, it's a funny thing to say, but you know, in a city where someone about my age runs around in a mask and a cape it seems like that would be more of a priority. You know. For people that talk to the commissioner a lot and want to talk about safe living arrangements.”
The car stops in front of Tim's house. When Bruce Wayne turns around, he doesn't look angry. Tim still flinches.
“Sorry,” Tim whispers. He looks down.
Bruce clears his throat. “You don't have to stay with us, Tim. Commissioner Gordon has taken emergency custody before. No one wants you to feel unsafe.”
Tim peers up tentatively. Jason still looks surprised. Alfred looks just as calm as before. Bruce looks at Tim like he really does care about any kid, even kids that lose their temper and say really dumb things. “I could still stay with you, though?” Tim asks. “I—um. I never meant to say that. I promise. I never, ever was going to tell anybody. I don't know anybody else that knows.”
“I believe you,” Bruce says. “May we come in to help you pack?”
Tim would have agreed anyway. When a police car stops next to the town car, Tim is very sure he doesn't want to be on his own. “Yes, please.”
Bruce talks with the two police officers in the car. Jason walks into the house with him. Tim uses his house key and stands back while the police take a look around his house and take pictures. At least Tim took the time to put his dishes away this morning. His parents are going to be upset but he didn't leave a mess anywhere.
Tim's room is cluttered but it's not awful. At least Mr. Wayne and Mr. Pennyworth stay downstairs. One of the cops takes a few pictures of Tim's room, too, but he mostly talked to Jason and Tim didn't have to say anything.
“Sorry,” Jason says when it's just the two of them. “I should've let you know sooner. I—um. A lot of kids think they're fine, though, when they're not.”
Tim drops his suitcase on the bed. He'd only cleaned it out days before when he got back from boarding school. His parents were supposed to pick him up from boarding school and stay while Mrs. Mac was on vacation. They'd changed their mind and their schedule and gone to a new archaeological dig instead. His parents know that he can take care of himself for a few days without getting into trouble. They're not wrong. He was fine and having parents in the city didn't make anyone but Jason safer when Mad Hatter showed up.
Tim packs methodically. Maybe it's better that he only knows how to pack for boarding school because he doesn't know how long he'll stay before they figure out if he made a bizarrely accurate guess or if he actually knows. He might as well not need to hope someone will let him come back for a few things from his room.
“It's not like it has to be permanent,” Jason says quietly. “You should have someone that you can call, though, when crazy stuff happens. Thanks for helping ditch the hats and keep Hatter from getting too distracted, by the way. He's always got a few spares microchips but he's got the attention span of a goldfish. If you can get him doing something like talking about colors, he'll forget whatever extortion plan he had in mind and start chattering.”
Tim looks over his shoulder. That's not quite an admission that Tim was right, and that Jason is Robin, but Tim is the one that made it awkward.
“I—um. I'm sorry. It wasn't anything you did that made me—um.”
Jason shrugs. “If you want to say what it was that made you say that, I'm curious, but sometimes I think my entire family runs on plausible deniability. Nobody's going to give you a hard time. Bruce will be happier if he knows but he's a worrywart and wants to know if it's something we should fix.”
Tim can live with that. They don't have to admit that he's right but it means that they don't have to threaten him. No one has to get him in further trouble. His parents will still be upset but it's not Tim's fault that they extended their trip again. They wanted Tim to go to the charity event and it's not his fault that Mad Hatter crashed it. He did everything he could to keep it from getting worse. Even if they're mad, maybe they'll be a little happier if he ends up on okay terms with the Waynes.
The drive over to Wayne Manor is quiet. Tim is not about to be the first one to talk, not this time, but no one seems angry. Tim hopes they're going to show him right to a bedroom and then figure out what they're going to do next on his own so he can relax for a little but they only stop at a guest room long enough for Jason to set down Tim's suitcase and for Tim to leave his backpack behind.
Dick Grayson is in the kitchen. He doesn't look surprised to see Tim, which is nice, because Tim doesn't feel ready for any more surprises.
All Tim had to do was not lose his temper and tell Batman and Robin that he knows they're Batman and Robin. He could have stayed in their house for a little and not made everything awkward. His parents would have still been mad but at least the Waynes wouldn't be upset with him.
“We might as well make introductions downstairs,” Bruce says.
Dick looks surprised but he joins the group when they go to the study and Bruce moves the hands on a broken grandfather clock. Tim can't hear Dick's quiet exchange with Mr. Pennyworth past the roaring in his ears. Tim wants to pretend that nothing ever happened. This doesn't feel like pretending he never said something he shouldn't have.
Tim swallows hard when a passage opens. They wouldn't just show him a secret passage and then wipe his memory. Probably. Maybe Batman wants to ask questions in his base. Maybe he has a lie detector.
Tim follows Jason down the stairs slowly and stares wide-eyed at the huge space. Batman has a cave under his house. Batman has a cave with Bat-symbols everywhere and a huge set of computer towers with an even bigger monitor display. There's a giant model of a T-Rex and a huge coin and so many different costumes and the Batmobile.
If they take Tim's memories, maybe he'll still dream about this.
Tim stops looking around the cave long before he's ready. If he looks too much longer, it'll only feel like he's delaying the inevitable.
“Hi!” Dick says, holding out a hand. “I'm Dick Grayson, and you are...”
Tim shakes his hand shyly. “Tim Drake. We met, once, but it was a long time ago.” He hasn't been this close to the first Robin in years.
Dick frowns thoughtfully. “I've seen you around a few times, I think, with the Drakes, but I don't know if we've met.”
This is one of many reasons that Tim had never planned on admitting he knew who Batman was. There is not much that Tim can do with the information and admitting why he figured it out feels rude. “Sorry. I—um. I was at Haley's Circus the night your parents died.”
Dick doesn't look angry. “You must've been really young.”
Tim won't make anyone ask. “You promised you'd do a quadruple somersault for me. I probably wouldn't remember it so clearly except, um.” Except that Dick's parents had fallen to their deaths and Tim had nightmares for months. He can't imagine how much worse it would have been for Dick. “I remembered, though, and a few years later I saw Robin on the news doing a quadruple somersault. Not that many people can do that and the pieces all fit together.”
Dick turns away for a moment. He doesn't look angry, though. He grabs his wallet out of his back pocket and holds out a twenty-dollar bill.
Alfred tucks the money into the pocket of his jacket.
“Hey, I didn't know about that bet!” Jason protests.
“That one predates you, Little Wing. Alfred told me to cool it with the acrobatics or someone would recognize me. I said nobody would notice. Alfred's always right so I did my best to not do quads on patrol anymore but I guess I was too late on that. So! Nice to see you again, Tim.”
Tim doesn't get it. He gave up the secret and that should make it easier if they wanted to erase his memory. He knows that someone on the Justice League could do that. Instead, everybody looks happier, even Mr. Wayne.
“My—my parents are in Andorra. Mr. Wayne said I can stay here until they're back?” Tim isn't sure why he expects Dick to disagree when no one else has but no one takes back the offer.
“You can stay as long as you want to,” Bruce says. “If you don't want to go back, it won't be the first time I went to court asking for guardianship. We're glad to have you.” He nods to the display cases. “It will be much simpler to not make excuses to a houseguest.”
Tim hesitantly takes a step closer to the costumes and trophies on display. It's almost like permission to go look. “Can I... would it be okay if I look around?”
“It'd be mean to let you come down here, otherwise,” Jason says. “I'll show you around.”
Ten minutes ago, all Tim wanted to do was go back to his empty house. Tim nods, suddenly shy even after he's spent a few hours with Robin. Before, he was doing his best to not let on that he knew he was talking to a superhero. Now, Robin just volunteered to show him around the Batcave.
Jason grins and shows him around. When Tim finally gets brave enough to ask questions, Jason answers them all. When Jason doesn't know, he calls Dick over, and then both of them insist that Tim should get to sit in the Batmobile. Tim can barely see over the dashboard from the driver's seat but he doesn't care. Tim accidentally told them he knew about Batman and Robin and Tim got to see Batman's secret headquarters and the Batmobile instead of having them all yell at him.
“Dinner's ready,” Bruce says when Tim is almost halfway through a tour that moves all over the cave. “You can show Tim around another time, boys. His parents expect that they will be back in Gotham in a few days.”
Tim gets to stay for a few days. Suddenly his empty house has no appeal. Mr. Wayne is letting him stay.
“Thank you, Mr. Wayne.”
“Bruce,” he corrects gently. “You're staying with us. Alfred's the only one that bothers with formality.”
Tim swallows. “Okay. Thank you, Bruce.”
Bruce nods approvingly. Jason touches Tim's arm and motions to wait while Bruce and Dick head upstairs.
“Are you okay staying here?” Jason asks after the others go through the door.
Tim is in Batman's cave. He thought he'd ruined his chances of having them like him but instead they brought him right into a secret hideout and they're promising that he can stay. “I... I don't want to be on my own. I'm... this is so cool. It's really okay if I stay here for a few days?”
“It's okay if you stay longer,” Jason promises. “You're not the first person to figure it out. You won't be the last. You're welcome even if your parents show up and apologize and stop leaving you alone.”
Tim's only seen Robin from a distance but he's spent a few hours with Jason. He believes him. “Earlier, I was hoping that maybe I could come over for dinner, sometime, but I didn't think it would ever happen. I also never thought I'd blurt something out like that, either.”
Jason bumps his shoulder against Tim's. “You said it where no one else could hear, though, so no harm done. I think everybody was impressed you've known since Dick was Robin and haven't managed to say it before now. It's been ages since we had a new audience for some of the best stories. Alfred doesn't usually allow cape talk at dinner but we still have some good ones out of costume.”
“What's your favorite?” Tim asks.
Jason grins. “For now? Getting Dick to tell the chocolate fountain story for the fourth time. It's great, you're going to love it, and you're one of the few people out there who knows how funny it is that Batman saved the day by tackling a chocolate fountain.”