Chapter Text
Tim was exhausted. He had been working at WE for who-knows-how-many hours straight and only managed to fit in a single five-minute power nap. He slowly trudged through the manor, past Alfred who promised to bring him a nutritious meal when he wakes, past Dick and Jason in the living room arguing over some videogame, and past Bruce working in his office.
“I can’t, Jon!” Tim heard frantically as he passed Damian’s room. He paused. He wasn’t sure Damian could display emotions, let alone one like… was that fear? Damian’s safe in the manor – and honestly, even if he wasn’t, Ra’s has a bigger vendetta against Tim than him – so why would Damian be afraid? “They are not satisfactory to speak to when it comes to my rearing. Richard is overly compassionate, Father is not compassionate enough. Jason understands somewhat, but he is never around and he does not care much. Alfred is likely my best option, however he does not talk much and often redirects me to Father.”
Tim furrowed his brows, confused. “What about Kon’s friend? Tim?” Jon asked, voice staticky. They must be on a call.
Damian scoffed, as though what Jon suggested was absurd. “Preposterous!” There it is. “He thinks of me as the devil on earth! If I were to come to him and tell him my troubles, he would likely use them against me.”
Tim was so, so tired. The only thing he wanted was to go to his room, fall onto his bed, and pass out. But Damian was right there, complaining to Jon that he had nobody to talk to. Tim could walk in and assure him he was there to listen. Or he could leave, go to sleep and forget he ever heard this, but something about that left a queasy feeling in Tim’s stomach.
“I’m really sorry I can’t be there with you, Damian,” Jon said.
He heard the boy sigh in response. “It is not your fault. You must help at Kent farm, and Father prefers that metas remain outside of Gotham. I just,” Damian paused, and Tim wondered what he was doing. There was no noise coming from the room, but Damian was a league-trained Bat – it’s not like Tim would ever hear him moving. “I wish they weren’t so judgemental about the way I behave, sometimes. There are so many different rules here, spoken and unspoken. It has been two years and I fear I will never fully adjust.
“Yesterday, Todd showed his fist to me and I thought he was preparing to attack, so I attacked first. Allegedly, he was inviting me to participate in something called a ‘fist bump,’ where we tap fists in a show of friendliness and camaraderie. Like this,” he said, and Tim assumed he was fist bumping himself to demonstrate. It must be a video call. “I am simply thankful Drake was not around to witness my mistake. I am sure I would never have heard the end of it.”
Tim swallowed the lump in his throat. He wouldn’t do that, right? Hold something Damian had never learned over his head? Except… he probably would. Pointing out another of Damian’s violence-related flaws would be irresistible to him.
An uneasy feeling settled in Tim’s gut, and he quickly started to move past Damian’s room to his own. The moment before he opened his door, Damian’s swung open. “Drake?” he called out. “What are you doing here?”
Tim yawned and looked at the younger boy. “Going to bed. I just got back from WE. Why?”
Damian’s tense body relaxed. “I see. You are clearly incapable of taking care of yourself. I shall have to warn Alfred of this repeated fault,” he said, turning and striding down the hall.
Typically, Tim would chase him down. At the very least, he’d shout at him, probably a variety of colourful threats and insults. Now, Tim was just confused. Is this another one of those rules Damian doesn’t understand? There was a vague implication that Damian was concerned about Tim’s health, but the general sentence was a rude insult. How could Damian not understand that? Sighing, Tim went into his room and slumped onto his bed.
Clearly, Damian was struggling, that much was obvious. And it seems the only person he’s confided in is Jon. He hasn’t even spoken to Dick, the favourite, the golden child, Boy Wonder. Tim suddenly felt very uncomfortable. Had he been a bad big brother to Damian? Technically, he hasn’t been trying to be a brother at all, let alone a good one. Maybe… maybe he should start.
Well.
He can be a good big brother to Damian tomorrow. Today, he can sleep. And maybe try to brainstorm some things that would make him a good big brother. It’s not like he’s ever been one before.