Chapter Text
“...I’m sorry, repeat that?”
“Of course, I’m sure this must come as a shock. Jack Drake and Janet Drake née Fenton have unfortunately passed. You have been determined as the most suitable guardian for your cousin, Timothy Drake.”
Danny stared out the window, stunned silent. He’d heard, of course, that social workers were looking for someone to take in a distant cousin, but he’d never expected to be The Chosen One. “Isn’t there anyone else? I mean, surely I’m not…I’m only twenty-five and I’ve never even met Tim.”
“I don’t think Tim even knew he had any other family, Mr. Fenton. Unfortunately, your parents’, ah, open-lab design concept makes their home unsuitable, and Ms. Alicia Fenton’s remote location presents similar difficulties for a growing teen. We did reach out to Jasmine, but she has indicated that she cannot offer a stable, safe environment due to her career and its… ah…”
“High casualty rate,” Danny sighed. He turned away from the window, rubbing a hand over his face.
“Though you did appear to have some trouble when you were younger, you now have a stable home, good income, and strong support network. I am also hoping I can convince you to move to Gotham instead of uprooting Tim, which would be impossible with any of your other relatives.”
Danny looked over his small studio apartment. He’d have to move anyway, so may as well. “Okay. Okay, this is… not what I expected today. But hey, I’ve had worse Tuesdays. When’s the funeral? And I’m sure there’s paperwork?”
“Of course. I’ll email it to you promptly, along with a few times for you to meet Tim. A friend of the family has assured me that he’s happy to handle any travel costs required. He is also happy to cover funeral costs and has handled most of the urgent arrangements, at Tim’s request.”
“Thank you, Ms. Susan.”
“And please do keep in mind, Mr. Fenton,” Susan added. “You may have had worse Tuesdays, but Tim most likely hasn’t.”
It was kind of a relief, Tim thought, that his cousin Danny looks just as bemused and uncertain as Tim is feeling. The house had emptied of its guests, leaving only Danny, Tim, and the lingering scent of orchids.
Danny was tall, was Tim’s first thought. Tall, and well-muscled. He was pale, and looked tired, but Tim probably did too. They both wore immaculate suits. Danny’s friend Sam had helped make sure they were both clothed for a high-class funeral, custom and matching. A united front in the face of grief.
“Well,” Danny said at last. He’d given Tim a very obvious once-over. Tim wondered what he saw. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather be in sweats with some good hot chocolate before we have any big conversations.”
“...Yeah,” Tim said, shuffling his feet. “Sounds good.”
Danny nodded. “Reconvene in the kitchen in half an hour?”
Tim nodded silently in turn. He startled a little when Danny absently ruffled Tim’s hair as he walked past him to collect his duffel bag and find somewhere to change. That was all Danny brought with him to Gotham: a duffel bag of clothes, a binder of important papers about his identity and the funeral and Tim’s care, and a custom-built motorbike. Tim focused on pondering the selection instead of thinking about recent events too hard.
Tim left the grand parlor (cold and empty, per usual) and retreated to his bedroom. His little space heater had been pumping away, and the room was toasty. He stripped his suit quickly, changing into a pair of comfortable joggers, a soft shirt and Dick’s hoodie. He felt marginally better free of the stiff fabric.
Dick and Bruce had both attended Jack’s funeral. Danny hadn’t said anything when Tim pulled them both to stand with them, nor had he commented on the matching suits. He’d introduced himself, accepted mutual introductions, and then took on the lion’s share of making small talk with the funeral guests alongside Bruce so Tim could step back.
By the time Tim timidly made his way down to the kitchen, Danny was mixing hot chocolate on the stove. Not powdered mix like Tim expected, but chunks of chocolate, sugar, and vanilla into hot milk on the stovetop. Tim quietly took a spot at the counter and watched. He drifted on the scent of warming chocolate and Danny’s smooth stirring.
“Well, I suppose you must have a lot of questions,” Danny said. “Shoot.”
Where to start? Tim wondered. He leaned on the counter, eyes never leaving Danny. “So… you’ve got custody of me.”
Danny smiled. “Not really a question, but I’ll allow it,” he said teasingly. “Apparently I’m the ‘most suitable.’” He paused his stirring to make air quotes. “Which, damn kid. That’s rough.”
That actually startled a laugh out of Tim. He covered his mouth hastily, but Danny’s eyes just crinkled up, pleased.
“My parents’ lax idea of lab safety and borderline villainy crossed them off the list instantly. My younger sister Ellie doesn’t legally exist and spends 95% of her time travelling. Aunt Alicia lives in the middle of nowhere - you quite literally have to air drop in to reach it. According to Ms. Susan, that’s not an enriching environment for a teenager.”
Tim snorted. He had to agree with Ms. Susan on that one.
“My sister Jazz got serious consideration. On paper, she’s kind of perfect. Outstanding grades. Stunningly good career, which turned out to be the problem, on account of the number of people who want to kill her. FBI,” he said to Tim’s questioning look. “I can’t give you more details at this time. She’s working on getting the clearance to at least tell you the bare bones.”
Tim nodded slowly. “That’s cool as hell.”
“Right?” Danny moved the hot chocolate off the heat, still stirring as he added a dash of spice. The warm scent of nutmeg and cinnamon layered with the chocolate. “Then there’s me. These days, I’m a freelance engineer and consultant, so I make decent money and I can live pretty much anywhere, so there was no need to make you move cities. I have learned from my parent’s mistakes and do practice good lab safety, and I know enough about handling money to at least make sure no one’s trying to steal yours.” He stopped stirring at last, and started searching cabinets for mugs.
“First cupboard left of the sink. Above the coffee maker,” Tim said.
Danny opened the door and snorted at the collection of very fancy beans. “Ah, you’re a connoisseur, I see.” He grabbed two random mugs.
“Yeah,” Tim said. When coffee became necessary, he preferred the good stuff. “Where’d you learn to make hot chocolate like that?”
“My friend Tucker - you’ll probably meet him and Sam at some point - his mom taught me.”
Tim nodded. “Um. You said… I wouldn’t have to move cities.”
Danny paused where he was dishing up the cocoa. “I did. Ready for a talk?”
“Rather know now.”
Danny finished filling the mugs and passed one to Tim, then leaned against the bar across from him. “Alright. Frankly, this place is far too big for two people. And unless things have changed since I was your age, I doubt either of us is up for cleaning and maintaining the place.”
“So you’re going to sell it.”
Danny blinked. “What? I can’t. Almost all your liquid assets, including the house, are in trust until you turn 21 or finish a degree, whichever comes first. Sorry, I thought someone would have told you. There’s a large fund for your care and upkeep and if you want the rest when you’re older, it’ll be here waiting.”
Tim felt his shoulders relax a little. He sipped his cocoa. It flooded him with warmth and he relaxed just a little more.
“I have enough money of my own to get a decent place in the city. I thought you’d like some input, though, and have a better idea of which neighborhoods are decent, so I haven’t picked anywhere. It’ll be a couple months, at least—I still need to find a realtor.”
“Bruce probably knows someone,” Tim said automatically.
Danny examined him, eyes sharp and flinty. “Do you trust and want the Waynes to continue being present in your life?” he asked. “Because if you don’t, I don’t care how much money he has—”
“I do,” Tim said, a little startled. “Bruce’s been watching out for me for a long time, and Dick’s the older brother I never had.”
The line of Danny’s shoulders relaxed. “Alright. I had a very toxic, very wealthy godfather when I was younger. One of many reasons my parents and I no longer talk. So if that changes, you just let me know.”
Tim nodded, filing away that tidbit of knowledge.
“Do you want to continue attending the same school?” Danny asked.
“Not really,” Tim said. He tried not to think about huddling in the cupboard, praying, hearing gunshots. Seeing Darla fall from the cupboard next to him to the floor. “I would rather do online school.”
“Socializing is important,” Danny said. “If you do online school, you need to pick a group extracurricular. We can do a couple elective classes through the school, or you can pick a club or sport to participate in, but interacting with people your own age is important.”
“Yeah, yeah, got to network for the future of the business and all that,” Tim grumbled.
“I don’t give a shit about that,” Danny said bluntly. Tim gaped at him. “It’s just important to have friends you can trust. God knows where I’d be without Sam and Tucker. Living out of a dumpster like a feral raccoon, maybe.”
That startled another choked laugh out of Tim. Danny looked pleased again.
“Any allergies, medical concerns, etcetera?” Danny asked.
“The Waynes think I’m allergic to walnuts because I faked it once for reasons,” Tim said without thinking.
Danny snorted. “Are you actually?”
“No, not at all.”
“Are we maintaining the ruse?”
“Yeah, except with Alfred, the Wayne’s butler-slash-grandfather. There’s a bet.”
“I’ll get a fake epipen of saline or something then.” Danny nodded firmly. “Can’t have anyone saying I’m negligent.”
The moment was interrupted when Tim’s watch beeped. He sighed. “Give me a second, I have to call and tell Dick that you aren’t an ax murderer.”
Danny’s lips twitched. “Go for it. I’ll be in the guest room. If you need anything, come get me. Anything, Tim.”
Tim nodded uncertainly, then dashed off to his own room. He had a call to make.
Dick paced anxiously, glancing at his phone on the table every few minutes. Bruce looked calm, sitting in his usual chair, but his shoulders were tense, and he hadn’t turned a page in his book for several minutes. Alfred was cradling a cup of tea next to him.
They’d set a fifteen minute window for Tim’s check in, but that felt like too long now.
There was nothing on paper to show that Danny was anyone to be worried about, but there were interesting gaps in his history that no one could explain. So Dick paced. He really wanted this to work out for Tim, for his extended family to be good for him. Because as much as Bruce wanted to take Tim himself…
Well. Bruce had been different since Jason had died, and Dick didn’t think the manor was currently the best environment for Tim to be in. Tim needed someone to take care of him, not to have to babysit a grown ass man who refused to see a grief counselor. If Danny turned out to be decent and Bruce tried to push the issue, Dick would say just that.
His phone rang. It hadn’t even finished ringing once before Dick had picked it up. “Tim!” he exclaimed.
“Hey, Dick,” Tim said. “That was quick.”
“I was worried,” Dick said.
Tim sighed gustily. “I’m fine. Danny seems cool. A little awkward. He makes hot cocoa like Alfred does.”
Dick grinned. “Apparently you’ve got competition in the cocoa realm,” he said, turning to Alfred.
“Bruce is sitting there moping, isn’t he? Just put me on speaker,” Tim said.
“Moping like a champion,” Dick confirmed, turning on the speakerphone. He saw Bruce open his mouth to speak and barreled ahead quickly. “You hanging in there?” Bruce’s jaw snapped shut. He looked a bit chagrined.
“I’m… alright. Not sure it’s really sunk in yet.”
“Yeah,” Dick said, his own voice soft. “I get it, Timmy.”
“Found out why you couldn’t find a lot on Jasmine during the checks,” Tim said. “You’ll want to have Oracle do some digging. She’s FBI. Danny didn’t say what she does exactly.”
“We’ll check,” Bruce said.
“He’s no-contact with his parents, so cross that worry off the list,” Tim said. “His godfather too. Just about the first thing he offered was to cut you off if I wanted, on account of his parents having forced him to interact with, and I quote, his ‘very toxic, very wealthy godfather’ when he was younger. I told him it was fine and that he should ask you for help finding a real estate agent. He’s planning to stay in the city, but wants to move into a place sized for two instead of fifty.”
“Sensible,” Alfred said. “Which districts is he considering?”
“Not sure. Sounds like he wants to talk about it first.”
Bruce hummed. “Well, if we account for the time it takes to get to school, the best options are -”
“He's letting me take classes online, so that’s a non-issue,” Tim said.
Silence. Bruce's face sank into a frown. “It's important to-”
“Socialize with your peers,” Tim said. “Which I can do just fine on a sports team or in an art club that doesn't require me to sit and pretend to be stupid for eight hours a day while knowing in vivid detail exactly what one of my best friend's blood looks like soaking into the ludicrously expensive wood flooring.” He hung up.
Dick slowly lowered the phone and turned to look at Bruce, who looked a bit shell shocked.
“I… I didn't realize…”
Dick maintained a perfectly pleasant expression. “Well, maybe if you spent more time supporting the child in your care instead of making him play therapist for his hero, you would have. Therapy would help with that. Actual therapy. With a qualified adult.”
Whoops, Dick thought. His pleasant facade seems to have slipped. Too bad. Dick wasn't as nice as Tim, and was, frankly, fed up with Bruce's determination to make his own grief everyone else's problem. His choice to not even try, nearly two years later. Grief had no timeline, but the world wouldn’t freeze and wait for Bruce to catch up, and neither would Dick.
He turned and walked away from an even more shocked Bruce to go call Tim back. Tim would probably pick up, if Dick texted that he'd left the manor first.