We Can Work It Out Part 2
Authors: storiesintheashes (blackash26) and tigrislupa
Artist: xKalisto
Genre: Comedy/Fluff/Family/Angst
Fandom/Universe: Batfam, DCU Comicsverse preboot
Characters/Pairings: Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Barbara Gordon, Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Jim Gordon, Jason Todd
Warnings: mistaken assumption of an incestuous crush, assumed one-sided Damian/Tim
Word Count: 11,297
Notes: A follow up to incogneat-oh’s Roses for Red (Robin)
Summary: Damian endeavors to make up for his treatment of Drake and apologize properly; however, Drake refuses to forgive him no matter what he does. Tim does his best to deny, avoid, and ultimately deal with the fact that the demon brat has a crush on him of all people. (Pulling pigtails never felt like quite such an understatement.) Meanwhile, the rest of the family takes sides.
In all of this, there's only one thing everyone agrees on.
Don’t tell Dick.
***
Three days after the shoulder dislocation incident, Timothy returned from Hong Kong.
Damian was pleased that Timothy had taken a break from patrols during that time, no doubt due to Cassandra’s insistence. Unfortunately, Timothy had also chosen to remain mostly out of sight, which made monitoring his health/recovery a challenge. The ninjas had provided adequate reports but were a hassle to deal with, and his own personal observations were so much more reliable than the subjectiveness of third party individuals.
He had been looking forward to the opportunity to personally handling observations once again. However, Timothy had made this plan difficult by going thoroughly to ground upon his return.
Any immediate progress on the question of Timothy’s whereabouts was forestalled by Grayson’s presence in the Cave. Damian had not forgotten that his own poor behavior had led to this, but thus far Grayson did not seem aware of either Damian’s apologies or Timothy’s refusals.
Hopefully Timothy would be more accepting once Damian had seen to it that he was actually looking after his basic needs.
For the time being, though, Grayson’s presence was just another reminder of how poorly Damian’s efforts were going. And his Father’s awkward lurking in the background was definitely not helping matters. Something odd was going on with both Pennyworth and his Father. Damian would focus on figuring that out after Timothy had been dealt with.
In the meantime, there was always casework.
Damian was just considering an improvement to his search algorithm when Timothy, escorted by Pennyworth, entered the Cave.
Pennyworth glanced over to Damian before he turned and murmured something to Timothy. Surprise flickered over Tim’s face, but Pennyworth was already heading back up to the Manor.
“Tim!” Grayson called out, bounding over to him.
“Hey, Dick.” Timothy smiled.
“It’s good to see you,” Grayson said. He reached for a hug, hesitated halfway through the motion, and clasped Timothy’s shoulders instead.
Damian watched intently as Timothy winced ever so slightly at the weight on his bad shoulder, before covering his reaction with a strained smile.
Grayson pulled back as Father materialized from the shadow, both watching Tim with looks of concern.
Damian only half listened to the ensuing discussion in which Timothy convinced no one that he was in an adequate state of health. A distracted Timothy made a much easier target to observe and Damian wanted the chance to assess Timothy in person for the first time.
The cameras had not lied, Timothy was indeed underweight, something that must be rectified. His time with Cassandra seemed to have done him some good, though. The circles under his eyes were no longer quite as pronounced and the sickly pall that had seemed to hang over him had diminished. These were subjective and ill-defined measures of well-being, but they were encouraging nonetheless.
Timothy did seem to be especially tense as he spoke to Father and Grayson, beyond what Damian would expect given Timothy’s recent interactions with them. Damian observed Timothy conversing, watching the minute shifts in posture and gestures. And there it was once, and then again. Damian’s eyes narrowed.
Timothy was favoring his left side.
Silently stepping away from his computer, Damian slowly walked towards the cluster of Timothy, Grayson and Father. He made sure to stay out of Timothy’s line of sight. Father caught sight of Damian immediately, a strange look coming over his face before he quickly looked back down at Timothy and said nothing. One mystery at a time, Damian thought to himself. He would try to make peace with his Father after he had resolved the situation with Timothy.
He stopped just behind his target and sniffed the air experimentally. He caught the faint scent of Timothy Wayne’s cologne, but nothing more.
Damian shuffled to Timothy’s left, bending in to sniff closer. Yes, there it was, the faint smell of blood and antiseptic.
“What the hell, Damian?” Timothy yelped and twisted away. He hissed, clutching at his left side, and stumbled back into Grayson. “Were you- were you sniffing me?”
So that was where the wound was.
“Hey, Tim, you okay?” Grayson asked, hand hovering but not touching Timothy.
“Clearly not,” muttered Damian.
“I thought you said you hurt your shoulder?” Grayson continued over Damian.
“I did. And it’s fine,” Timothy said, waving his hand dismissively. He shot Damian an odd look, as he started edging towards the Manor stairs. “Look, I need to head out-”
“But, Tim-”
“It’s been great seeing you all-”
“At least let Alfred-”
“We should do it again sometime,” Timothy finished with a practiced smile before hurrying back up the stairs.
Grayson attempted to lunge after Timothy, but Father grabbed hold of Grayson’s arm before he could get farther than a step.
Grayson turned to Father, affronted. “Are you just going to let him leave?”
“Tim can take care of himself,” Father said gruffly.
Damian snorted. “Hardly.”
“Damian, be nice,” Grayson said, breaking away from Father’s hold. “Whether or not Tim can take care of himself is not the problem. He needs to know he can come to us.
“And Tim knows what he needs to come to us for,” Father growled before slipping off into the shadows of the cave.
Grayson took a step in the direction Father went before sighing and shaking his head. “What a mess,” he said quietly.
Damian tried to think of something to say, and finally settled on a tentative, “I did not mean…”
“I know you don’t like Tim, Dami, but don’t you think that was going a bit far? He’s injured.”
“I was only trying…” Damian paused, looking down. “I am trying.”
Dick’s hand settled heavily on his head. “I know you are, Little D. I know you are.”
‘Time to call in reinforcements,’ Damian decided silently.
***
Tim had just finished settling on his couch and positioning a bag of ice on his injured shoulder when he heard the lock on his front door click open. He tensed momentarily, worried that Damian might have gotten a copy of his key, but then the door slid open a familiar voice called out, “Anybody home?”
“In here, Steph,” he called out as he took his laptop out of its case and set it on the coffee table in front of him.
She strode into the main living area and plopped onto the couch beside him, letting her bag fall to the floor at her feet. “Cass was not kidding about that shoulder,” she said, giving him a once over. “Though she definitely didn’t mention that.” She gestured at the cut down his side.
Tim grimaced. “It looks worse than it is. I got overconfident and went out again before I was fully recovered. Learned that lesson.”
Steph rolled her eyes. “We can only hope it sticks this time.”
“I’ll do my best,” Tim said, dryly.
An easy silence stretched between them as Tim settled into working. But Tim could feel her gaze on him, steady and waiting. It was only a matter of time until -
“Are you really okay?” she asked.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Tim said, still focused on his work.
“Certain parties seemed...concerned about you. And had a lot of evidence to back up that concern.”
Normally Tim would assume she was talking about Dick or maybe Alfred. But given the number of “concerned” emails he’d been getting from a certain demon with a crush… Tim groaned. “Oh no. Don’t tell me he talked to you.”
"Come on, Tim. Give the kid some slack. He's trying really hard."
"Steph, I don't like that little monster!.” The words exploded from his mouth, fueled by untempered frustration. “Can we just leave it at that?"
She reached over and snapped his laptop shut. "Tim, you're being completely unreasonable! He's changed a lot!"
"I think the trying to kill me thing kind of overshadows anything else, don't you? Why are you on his side now?"
Steph raised an eyebrow, shooting him a look of fond exasperation. "I”m on your side, but I think he has some good points. Anyway, Jason's tried to kill you before and you team up with him now and then."
"That's a little bit different, Steph," Tim hedged.
"How is it different? Damian has even less experience with all of this than Jason. You do so well with Jason, why not Damian, too?"
Tim's eyes widened. She couldn’t think - "No, no! That- no! Jason and I are not like that! We've done some work together. That's it. Strictly professional."
Steph frowned. "Really? That’s all? 'Cause from the way you’ve talked, it sounded like you were both getting pretty friendly."
He blanched. Did she really think that he and Jason were like that? Why? Where on Earth would she get that idea?
"Geez, Tim. I don't know why you're so worked up about this," Steph said, relaxing back into the couch.
Tim took the ice pack off his shoulder and set it on the coffee table in front of him. "Well, I don't know how you can be so calm about this."
Steph shook her head. “Because it’s not that big of a deal. How hard is it to be a little bit nicer and take his concerns to heart? You’re hurting the poor kid’s feelings!”
Tim turned to her, scowling. “His feelings! What about my feelings? Don’t I get a say in all this?”
“Of course you do. But he’s only ten, Tim. Ten,” she stressed. “You could at least pretend to care.”
“I’m sorry, Steph. I don’t like him, and he shouldn’t think that I do.”
“But he doesn’t have to think you hate him. You’re still going to have to work together. And what you have right now? Isn’t working.”
“No,” Tim admitted, “it’s not.” Hong Kong had proven that well enough.
Steph elbowed him cajolingly. "C’mon, how would you feel in his position?"
Tim grumbled. "I'd get the message..."
Steph glared.
"Fine.” He rolled his eyes. “I'll try and be nicer to the kid. But could you tell him to tone it down? Since you’re apparently his emissary?"
"That's fair.” Steph smiled and poked him lightly in the side. “Now, don't let me catch you out on patrol with a wound like that. You could really hurt yourself, Tim."
"It's not that big of a deal."
Steph raised an eyebrow at him, incredulous. She grabbed his ice pack off the table and plopped it back onto his shoulder. Then, before he could stop her, she snatched his laptop off the coffee table.
”Hey!” he protested. “I have work to do!”
“All work and no play makes Tim a dull boy wonder,” she sing-songed as she stuffed his laptop under the couch. “Now.” She grinned at him and reached for the remote. “Movie?”
He sighed. “Fine.”
“You make a movie night sound like torture,” Steph complained.
“I have a lot on my plate...but I wouldn’t call this torture.”
“Oh? Then what would you call it?”
“Time with a friend. I missed this.
Steph smiled, curling up beside him and began flipping through the channels on the TV. “So we’re doing sap tonight, eh? Lifetime movies it is.”
Tim pulled her close, grinning. “I take it back, I didn’t miss this at all.”
“Aww, you know you love it,” she said. “And look, it’s a Christmas special.”
“It’s not even winter anymore.”
“Where’s your Christmas spirit, Tim?”
“Hibernating.”
“Don’t be such a Scrooge. Come on, say it with me, ‘God bless us, everyone.’”
Tim groaned. “Can we please just watch the movie.”
“That’s the spirit.”
***
Tim glowered at the unconscious, zip-stripped bodies of the gang he had been quietly investigating for months. They were the key to breaking a drug ring that sprawled from Gotham to Star City. And now here they were. Tied up all pretty for the police and with the proof of their connections in a handy USB drive.
But Tim hadn’t done it.
The stupid note clenched in his hand told him who he had to thank for this...gift.
Go home and sleep, Timothy. You’re of no use to anyone as you are.
Ugh. His blood boiled at the words. He may be injured, but he wasn’t helpless. He could have checked in on these idiots without any trouble. And he was certainly not going home.
Swinging around the city was not an option thanks to his shoulder and side. He couldn’t believe he’d been caught off guard by a single goon trying to rob a grocery store and managed to re-injure himself. He could still drive his RR Cycle, though, and he would not let Damian derail his case so easily.
He had an old friend to visit.
***
“Evening, Commissioner,” Red Robin said as he materialized from the shadows of Jim Gordon’s office.
Gordon startled, but regained his equilibrium quickly. “Red Robin.” He nodded in greeting. “I thought you might stop by.”
Tim eyed him warily. “You did?”
Gordon looked up at him. “You might even say a little bird told me.”
Oh no. First Steph, now Gordon?
“And what exactly did that little bird tell you?” He tried very hard to keep his voice pleasant.
“Hmm,” Gordon said unhelpfully, turning to look at Red Robin properly. “Well, you don’t seem to be on your deathbed. That’s encouraging.”
Tim grimaced. “I’m fine.”
“He said you would say that, but he didn’t have to. You bats are always fine, even when you aren’t,” the Commissioner noted shrewdly.
Tim crossed his arms, careful of his injuries, stance widening defensively. “We need to be.”
Gordon sighed. “I knew you would say that, too. But you know me. I’m a father, I worry.”
Tim relaxed, biting back on the warm smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I appreciate that, Commissioner. But there are still some dangerous elements on the loose, and I can’t let anyone else get hurt. Do you have any intel on the Black Jack Gang?”
Gordon leaned back in his chair, eyeing Red Robin speculatively. “And if I say they’ve been taken care of?”
“I’d say that I’d like to check on it myself.”
Gordon gave him another dubious once over before nodding and handing over a USB drive. “Fair enough. I can sympathize with wanting to see a case through. But go easy on yourself, kid. There’s plenty of Gotham to go around.”
***
After two boring nights of following Robin’s annoyingly perfect paper and goon trails through the city, Red Robin took extreme measures and put in a call to the one person that wouldn’t be swayed by violence or Tim’s well-being.
The following night, Red Robin headed for their scheduled rendezvous point, keeping an eye out for interfering little brats as he went.
Rooftop meetings were a tad cliché in their line of work, but they were cliche for a reason. Plenty of space, low chance of interruption, and a great aesthetic. What more could a vigilante ask for? Unfortunately, not being able to swing meant that Tim had to get there by less glamorous means.
By the time he crested the top of the fire escape, his associate was already there.
“Hood.” Tim nodded.
Jason smirked. “Poor little bird,” he said and gestured to the fire escape with his cigarette. “Looks like someone clipped your wings.”
Tim pursed his lips in annoyance. “Do you have the information I asked for?”
“Right down to business tonight, then? Where’s your sense of brotherly love?”
Grimacing, Tim crossed his arms. “Brotherly love is the last thing I want to talk about right now.”
“Ouch,” Jason said, flicking his cigarette away. “You know, that really stings, Replacement. Right here,” He placed his hand over his heart with a dramatic flourish.
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t -” Tim’s proximity meter beeped. Damian was within two miles of their position. “Shit,” he cursed. “Not now.”
Jason tensed, eyes scanning the rooftops for incoming danger. “What is it?”
“No time,” Tim said, turning back to the fire escape. He could make it.
“Oh no you don’t.” Jason’s hand curled around Tim’s bicep, vice tight. “What the hell is incoming?”
“You’ll be fine, Jason.” Tim grabbed Jason’s wrist and tried to jerk his arm away. “Now let me go.”
“Like I’m going to believe that.”
The proximity meter beeped twice. One mile.
No time to run. Time for plan B. “Believe what you want.” Tim let go of Jason’s wrist and twisted around behind Jason, breaking the hold on his bicep as he went. “Now just...” Tim inched to the side, behind Jason. With Damian’s regular patrol and his speed of approach he should be coming from over there and “...don’t move.”
“The fuck is wrong with you, Pretender?” Jason said, twisting to try and face Tim.
“What part of don’t move is so hard to understand?” Tim said, grabbing Jason’s shoulders and turning him back around. “Now face forward and look busy.”
“The fuck?”
“Shut up. I’m not here. I’ve never been here. You haven’t seen me all night,” Tim instructed as he gathered up his cape and pulled it tight around himself so there was no chance of a passing breeze ruining his hiding spot.
“Fucking hell. You’ve gone crazy,” Jason grumbled. But he got out his lighter and a new cigarette and with a few flicks lit it.
He took a long slow drag and exhaled a gusty cloud of smoke. “You’d tell me if we were about to die.” It was less a question and more of a statement.
Tim resisted the urged to gag at the acrid smell of the smoke. “Yes,” he hissed quietly. “Trust me, you’re not in any danger.”
“But you are,” Jason muttered back.
“I’m not here. Stop talking to me,” Tim said.
Jason went obligingly silent, proceeding to make an awful cloud of putrid smoke as they waited. “Well, well, well,” Jason said conversationally after a few good puffs. “Looks like the little demon is out without an escort again.”
Tim winced, shuffling closer to Jason to make sure he was completely hidden, and said nothing.
“And he just flies on by,” Jason continued, “All of these family feelings tonight are getting to be too much. I don’t know if I can take it.”
Tim refused to breathe a sigh of relief until the proximity meter beeped to inform him that Damian was two miles away again. Then he stepped out from behind Jason, letting his cape drop as he did, and took a wonderful breath of fresh Gotham air.
“You gonna tell me what that was all about?” Jason said, turning to face Tim and flicking ash at him.
“Don’t worry about it,” Tim said. “Let’s just do what we came here for so we can both get on with our nights.”
“Oh I’m sorry,” Jason said before puffing smoke into Tim’s face. “Does this look like concern? What the fuck just happened?”
“Damn it, Jason. Look, I’m very thankful for your help-”
“Damn straight. You owe me one,” Jason interrupted.
“-but if we could just move on to our business...” Tim trailed off, giving Jason a pointed look as he crossed his arms stubbornly.
Jason eyed Tim appraisingly. Taking one last drag, he flicked his cigarette away. “Fine. But I will find out what’s going on, Replacement. Count on it.”
***
Tim came up from his Red Robin’s Nest and into his apartment, turning on lights as he went. He was exhausted and patrol had been frustrating, but at least he had cleared up a couple of things.
He trudged towards the kitchen. Time to get a cup of coffee before settling in for a long night of trawling through cases for new leads.
Tim flicked on the lights and startled back, arms raised defensively. There, sitting at his kitchen counter calmly as you please eating a carton of Ramen, was Jason.
"Hey, there's no Demon brat around hunting for your virginity, Pretender. So relax." Jason gestured with his spoon, “Also, your Ramen is stale. I didn’t even know that was possible.”
"I. You. Jason," Tim spluttered.
"That's my name, don't wear it out," Jason sing-songed with obvious delight.
Tim’s eyes narrowed as he edged around towards the coffee maker. "What do you even want?"
Jason scoffs. "What, you think you could act so weirdly and leave it like that?"
"...Yes?" Tim said, expression turning hopeful.
"No, no, no,” Jason said, shaking his head. “You got me all curious. I had to investigate. It’s in the blood, you see."
"So what, you'd thought you'd stop by for milk and cookies?" Tim ground out.
"Not my style.” Jason tapped his Ramen bowl with his spoon and grinned. “I am up for story time, though."
Tim finally reached the coffee maker and began making coffee. "What are you, five?"
"Nah, thirteen at least. I like my big boy stories.” Jason set his chin on his hands. “Now spill."
Tim raised a skeptical eyebrow at Jason, before pointedly turning back to the coffee maker.
"Well, if you're not up for story time, maybe your little prince charming is?” Jason took out his communicator with a flourish.” I'm sure he'd be happy to share."
"No! Stop!" Tim whirled away from the coffee maker and lunged for the device.
Jason held his communicator high in the air, waving it out of Tim’s reach. "Start talkin', Babybird."
Tim clenched his fists, mutinously staring Jason down, before grinding out, "What do you even want to know?"
"Oh, everything. But I'll settle for how this started. Is he leaving corpses as presents outside your place or something?"
"No, just..." Tim trailed off, bringing a hand up over his face and grimacing.
"I can't hear you Pretender."
"He gave me flowers," Tim blurted out.
Jason threw his head back and howled with laughter.
Tim looked around for something to throw. "It's not funny!"
"Were they roses?” Tim’s scowl deepened. “Oh, they were, weren't they?"
"Shut. Up."
"A dozen red roses just for Timmy-Poo."
Tim groaned and slumped against the counter, putting his head in his arms. "I just don't know how to make him stop!"
"Well, have you tried asking him?" Jason asked, a smirk tugging at his lips, but no longer laughing.
"I...sort of," Tim faltered.
Jason snorted. "How do you 'sort of' ask someone to stop courting you? Come on, I'm curious."
"You know what they say about curiosity," Tim said.
Jason waved him off. "Satisfaction has brought me back before. I'm sure it will do it again."
Tim grimaced. "Well…” he began slowly, trying to frame the situation in the least embarrassing way possible, “Bruce and Dick were there and then I just...didn't get the chance."
"Uh huh."
"I tried!"
"Hey. I believe you, Babybird. But you're gonna have to tell the brat. Otherwise the next thing you know he's going to start trying to take you out on dates and give you lavish gifts and try and pamper you and woo you and-" Jason paused as Tim’s shoulders hunched, face buried in his hands. “Seriously?” Jason exclaimed. He clutched his side with one hand and grabbed the counter with his other before he could fall out of his chair laughing.
"Go away," Tim mumbled into his hands.
Jason’s laughter eventually died down, and he leaned forward across the counter to roughly ruffle Tim’s hair. "Sure thing. But hey, if you need any more romantic advice, you know where I am.” He gave Tim’s shoulder a playful punch. “Go get 'em, lover boy."
With that, Jason got off his barstool, walked into the living room, slid a window open and climbed out, cackling all the while.
Tim glanced up in time to see him go. The jerk had even left his empty Ramen container on the counter. Ugh. Tim groaned and put his head back down. Why did Jason have to be right?
***
The next afternoon, Tim arrived at Wayne Manor, determined to put an end to this. It wasn’t hard to find Damian. He was by himself, working away at one of the computers in the Cave. Tim took a deep breath. Time to do this while everyone else was still upstairs.
“Damian,” Tim said as neutrally as he could. He could do this, he could totally do this.
The brat swiveled in his chair and stood up. “Timothy.”
“Could I have a word with you?” This would all be over soon.
“There is something I wish to say first.”
Oh no. Was Damian actually going to confess? “Actually,” Tim said quickly, “I really need to tell you something.”
“I believe my concern is much more pressing. Are your wounds healing appropriately?”
“What? Yes, I’m fine. Look, Damian - ”
“And are you eating well?”
“That’s none of your business. We really need to talk about - ”
“You may tell it to me later this evening. You will accompany me to dinner this evening.” Damian sat down and turned back to his work. “I will make the appropriate reservations.”
No. Tim grabbed the back of Damian’s chair, turning Damian back to face him. Damian stared up at him, one unimpressed eyebrow raised. “No, Damian, I will not be accompanying you tonight. This has gone on for long enough but it really has to stop-”
“What has to stop, Timothy,” Damian bit back, “is the egregious way in which you treat yourself.”
“What’s wrong with the way I treat myself?”
“Have you not read the reports I have sent you? I described the numerous problems with your selfcare quite succinctly.
“Of course I haven’t read them.”
“And that is why we must go out to dinner.”
“Damn it, Damian. Listen to me!”
“Whoa, whoa, what’s all the ruckus?”
Before Tim could get a word in, Damian yelled, "Timothy will not accept my invitation to dinner!"
Dick’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. "Oh little D. I didn't -” Dick faltered. “Did you just call him Timothy?"
That was it. This had gone on too long. “No. I can’t do this. I am not going to dinner or anywhere with you Damian. I have tried to be nice about this, but I don’t like you like that. Okay? So just stop. I’m not interested.” Dick and Damian were both staring at him. Realizing how harsh his words were he awkwardly muttered a quick, insincere, “Sorry.”
The silence in the cave was deafening. Dick glanced back and forth between Damian and Tim with the distinctive look of someone who had been hit with a large fish.
"Dami...do you like Tim?" Dick asked finally.
Damian frowned. "Of course not, Grayson."
Dick and Tim turned to one another, perplexed.
"You...don't?" Tim looked skeptically at Damian.
"Why would you think I like you?" the boy retorted.
"But, but…,” Tim’s mind flashed over the past few weeks. All the signs, all the build-up. “The flowers... the gifts...asking me out on dates..."
“Wait, wait, what?” Dick said.
Damian shrugged. "Pennyworth suggested them."
Tim’s mind reeled. Alfred? Alfred was the cause of all this?
Dick took a deep breath and said, "Dami, what did you ask him? Specifically."
For the first time since the conversation began Damian actually looked embarrassed. He flushed slightly and looked at the floor as he said, “I merely wanted to show Timothy that I do not hate him anymore.” He hesitated. “And that I wanted to apologize for my past behavior.”
Tim felt the strangest sensation of vertigo as his memories of Damian’s actions shifted to fit into this new context.
“But what about the ninjas and the reports and the stalking and, and the concern?”
“In the course of my attempts to apologize, I discovered the poor state of your health. I decided that took precedence over my apology.”
That...made sense. Tim didn’t know what to say.
Dick was positively beaming at the two of them. “Damian, why don’t you go ahead and make those dinner reservations for four? I’m sure Bruce would love to join us.”
Damian blinked and gave Dick an odd look before nodding.
“Great!” Dick clapped them both on the shoulder. “I’ll go tell him and we can head out.”
With that, he bounded back upstairs, leaving Tim and Damian alone in the cave once again.
They stood silently, avoiding each other’s gaze until finally Damian spoke. “I must make the arrangements - ”
"Thank you,” Tim began a half second after Damian, “for all the, you know...things.”
Damian trailed off and then nodded stiffly. “Of course and...I apologize once again. For...before.”
Tim wondered what exactly it was Damian was apologizing for before remembering that incident a few weeks back...right before the roses incident. He snorted to himself and offered Damian a lopsided smile. "Accepted. And...I don't hate you, too, by the way."
Damian harrumphed, crossing his arms. "If you had merely said that from the beginning it would have saved us all a great deal of trouble."
Tim rolled his eyes and started back towards the Manor. "You're such a brat."
"Tt." Damian fell into step beside him, his phone out as he fiddled with it, presumably making reservations.
Artist: xKalisto
Genre: Comedy/Fluff/Family/Angst
Fandom/Universe: Batfam, DCU Comicsverse preboot
Characters/Pairings: Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Barbara Gordon, Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Jim Gordon, Jason Todd
Warnings: mistaken assumption of an incestuous crush, assumed one-sided Damian/Tim
Word Count: 11,297
Notes: A follow up to incogneat-oh’s Roses for Red (Robin)
Summary: Damian endeavors to make up for his treatment of Drake and apologize properly; however, Drake refuses to forgive him no matter what he does. Tim does his best to deny, avoid, and ultimately deal with the fact that the demon brat has a crush on him of all people. (Pulling pigtails never felt like quite such an understatement.) Meanwhile, the rest of the family takes sides.
In all of this, there's only one thing everyone agrees on.
Don’t tell Dick.
***
Three days after the shoulder dislocation incident, Timothy returned from Hong Kong.
Damian was pleased that Timothy had taken a break from patrols during that time, no doubt due to Cassandra’s insistence. Unfortunately, Timothy had also chosen to remain mostly out of sight, which made monitoring his health/recovery a challenge. The ninjas had provided adequate reports but were a hassle to deal with, and his own personal observations were so much more reliable than the subjectiveness of third party individuals.
He had been looking forward to the opportunity to personally handling observations once again. However, Timothy had made this plan difficult by going thoroughly to ground upon his return.
Any immediate progress on the question of Timothy’s whereabouts was forestalled by Grayson’s presence in the Cave. Damian had not forgotten that his own poor behavior had led to this, but thus far Grayson did not seem aware of either Damian’s apologies or Timothy’s refusals.
Hopefully Timothy would be more accepting once Damian had seen to it that he was actually looking after his basic needs.
For the time being, though, Grayson’s presence was just another reminder of how poorly Damian’s efforts were going. And his Father’s awkward lurking in the background was definitely not helping matters. Something odd was going on with both Pennyworth and his Father. Damian would focus on figuring that out after Timothy had been dealt with.
In the meantime, there was always casework.
Damian was just considering an improvement to his search algorithm when Timothy, escorted by Pennyworth, entered the Cave.
Pennyworth glanced over to Damian before he turned and murmured something to Timothy. Surprise flickered over Tim’s face, but Pennyworth was already heading back up to the Manor.
“Tim!” Grayson called out, bounding over to him.
“Hey, Dick.” Timothy smiled.
“It’s good to see you,” Grayson said. He reached for a hug, hesitated halfway through the motion, and clasped Timothy’s shoulders instead.
Damian watched intently as Timothy winced ever so slightly at the weight on his bad shoulder, before covering his reaction with a strained smile.
Grayson pulled back as Father materialized from the shadow, both watching Tim with looks of concern.
Damian only half listened to the ensuing discussion in which Timothy convinced no one that he was in an adequate state of health. A distracted Timothy made a much easier target to observe and Damian wanted the chance to assess Timothy in person for the first time.
The cameras had not lied, Timothy was indeed underweight, something that must be rectified. His time with Cassandra seemed to have done him some good, though. The circles under his eyes were no longer quite as pronounced and the sickly pall that had seemed to hang over him had diminished. These were subjective and ill-defined measures of well-being, but they were encouraging nonetheless.
Timothy did seem to be especially tense as he spoke to Father and Grayson, beyond what Damian would expect given Timothy’s recent interactions with them. Damian observed Timothy conversing, watching the minute shifts in posture and gestures. And there it was once, and then again. Damian’s eyes narrowed.
Timothy was favoring his left side.
Silently stepping away from his computer, Damian slowly walked towards the cluster of Timothy, Grayson and Father. He made sure to stay out of Timothy’s line of sight. Father caught sight of Damian immediately, a strange look coming over his face before he quickly looked back down at Timothy and said nothing. One mystery at a time, Damian thought to himself. He would try to make peace with his Father after he had resolved the situation with Timothy.
He stopped just behind his target and sniffed the air experimentally. He caught the faint scent of Timothy Wayne’s cologne, but nothing more.
Damian shuffled to Timothy’s left, bending in to sniff closer. Yes, there it was, the faint smell of blood and antiseptic.
“What the hell, Damian?” Timothy yelped and twisted away. He hissed, clutching at his left side, and stumbled back into Grayson. “Were you- were you sniffing me?”
So that was where the wound was.
“Hey, Tim, you okay?” Grayson asked, hand hovering but not touching Timothy.
“Clearly not,” muttered Damian.
“I thought you said you hurt your shoulder?” Grayson continued over Damian.
“I did. And it’s fine,” Timothy said, waving his hand dismissively. He shot Damian an odd look, as he started edging towards the Manor stairs. “Look, I need to head out-”
“But, Tim-”
“It’s been great seeing you all-”
“At least let Alfred-”
“We should do it again sometime,” Timothy finished with a practiced smile before hurrying back up the stairs.
Grayson attempted to lunge after Timothy, but Father grabbed hold of Grayson’s arm before he could get farther than a step.
Grayson turned to Father, affronted. “Are you just going to let him leave?”
“Tim can take care of himself,” Father said gruffly.
Damian snorted. “Hardly.”
“Damian, be nice,” Grayson said, breaking away from Father’s hold. “Whether or not Tim can take care of himself is not the problem. He needs to know he can come to us.
“And Tim knows what he needs to come to us for,” Father growled before slipping off into the shadows of the cave.
Grayson took a step in the direction Father went before sighing and shaking his head. “What a mess,” he said quietly.
Damian tried to think of something to say, and finally settled on a tentative, “I did not mean…”
“I know you don’t like Tim, Dami, but don’t you think that was going a bit far? He’s injured.”
“I was only trying…” Damian paused, looking down. “I am trying.”
Dick’s hand settled heavily on his head. “I know you are, Little D. I know you are.”
‘Time to call in reinforcements,’ Damian decided silently.
***
Tim had just finished settling on his couch and positioning a bag of ice on his injured shoulder when he heard the lock on his front door click open. He tensed momentarily, worried that Damian might have gotten a copy of his key, but then the door slid open a familiar voice called out, “Anybody home?”
“In here, Steph,” he called out as he took his laptop out of its case and set it on the coffee table in front of him.
She strode into the main living area and plopped onto the couch beside him, letting her bag fall to the floor at her feet. “Cass was not kidding about that shoulder,” she said, giving him a once over. “Though she definitely didn’t mention that.” She gestured at the cut down his side.
Tim grimaced. “It looks worse than it is. I got overconfident and went out again before I was fully recovered. Learned that lesson.”
Steph rolled her eyes. “We can only hope it sticks this time.”
“I’ll do my best,” Tim said, dryly.
An easy silence stretched between them as Tim settled into working. But Tim could feel her gaze on him, steady and waiting. It was only a matter of time until -
“Are you really okay?” she asked.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Tim said, still focused on his work.
“Certain parties seemed...concerned about you. And had a lot of evidence to back up that concern.”
Normally Tim would assume she was talking about Dick or maybe Alfred. But given the number of “concerned” emails he’d been getting from a certain demon with a crush… Tim groaned. “Oh no. Don’t tell me he talked to you.”
"Come on, Tim. Give the kid some slack. He's trying really hard."
"Steph, I don't like that little monster!.” The words exploded from his mouth, fueled by untempered frustration. “Can we just leave it at that?"
She reached over and snapped his laptop shut. "Tim, you're being completely unreasonable! He's changed a lot!"
"I think the trying to kill me thing kind of overshadows anything else, don't you? Why are you on his side now?"
Steph raised an eyebrow, shooting him a look of fond exasperation. "I”m on your side, but I think he has some good points. Anyway, Jason's tried to kill you before and you team up with him now and then."
"That's a little bit different, Steph," Tim hedged.
"How is it different? Damian has even less experience with all of this than Jason. You do so well with Jason, why not Damian, too?"
Tim's eyes widened. She couldn’t think - "No, no! That- no! Jason and I are not like that! We've done some work together. That's it. Strictly professional."
Steph frowned. "Really? That’s all? 'Cause from the way you’ve talked, it sounded like you were both getting pretty friendly."
He blanched. Did she really think that he and Jason were like that? Why? Where on Earth would she get that idea?
"Geez, Tim. I don't know why you're so worked up about this," Steph said, relaxing back into the couch.
Tim took the ice pack off his shoulder and set it on the coffee table in front of him. "Well, I don't know how you can be so calm about this."
Steph shook her head. “Because it’s not that big of a deal. How hard is it to be a little bit nicer and take his concerns to heart? You’re hurting the poor kid’s feelings!”
Tim turned to her, scowling. “His feelings! What about my feelings? Don’t I get a say in all this?”
“Of course you do. But he’s only ten, Tim. Ten,” she stressed. “You could at least pretend to care.”
“I’m sorry, Steph. I don’t like him, and he shouldn’t think that I do.”
“But he doesn’t have to think you hate him. You’re still going to have to work together. And what you have right now? Isn’t working.”
“No,” Tim admitted, “it’s not.” Hong Kong had proven that well enough.
Steph elbowed him cajolingly. "C’mon, how would you feel in his position?"
Tim grumbled. "I'd get the message..."
Steph glared.
"Fine.” He rolled his eyes. “I'll try and be nicer to the kid. But could you tell him to tone it down? Since you’re apparently his emissary?"
"That's fair.” Steph smiled and poked him lightly in the side. “Now, don't let me catch you out on patrol with a wound like that. You could really hurt yourself, Tim."
"It's not that big of a deal."
Steph raised an eyebrow at him, incredulous. She grabbed his ice pack off the table and plopped it back onto his shoulder. Then, before he could stop her, she snatched his laptop off the coffee table.
”Hey!” he protested. “I have work to do!”
“All work and no play makes Tim a dull boy wonder,” she sing-songed as she stuffed his laptop under the couch. “Now.” She grinned at him and reached for the remote. “Movie?”
He sighed. “Fine.”
“You make a movie night sound like torture,” Steph complained.
“I have a lot on my plate...but I wouldn’t call this torture.”
“Oh? Then what would you call it?”
“Time with a friend. I missed this.
Steph smiled, curling up beside him and began flipping through the channels on the TV. “So we’re doing sap tonight, eh? Lifetime movies it is.”
Tim pulled her close, grinning. “I take it back, I didn’t miss this at all.”
“Aww, you know you love it,” she said. “And look, it’s a Christmas special.”
“It’s not even winter anymore.”
“Where’s your Christmas spirit, Tim?”
“Hibernating.”
“Don’t be such a Scrooge. Come on, say it with me, ‘God bless us, everyone.’”
Tim groaned. “Can we please just watch the movie.”
“That’s the spirit.”
***
Tim glowered at the unconscious, zip-stripped bodies of the gang he had been quietly investigating for months. They were the key to breaking a drug ring that sprawled from Gotham to Star City. And now here they were. Tied up all pretty for the police and with the proof of their connections in a handy USB drive.
But Tim hadn’t done it.
The stupid note clenched in his hand told him who he had to thank for this...gift.
Go home and sleep, Timothy. You’re of no use to anyone as you are.
Ugh. His blood boiled at the words. He may be injured, but he wasn’t helpless. He could have checked in on these idiots without any trouble. And he was certainly not going home.
Swinging around the city was not an option thanks to his shoulder and side. He couldn’t believe he’d been caught off guard by a single goon trying to rob a grocery store and managed to re-injure himself. He could still drive his RR Cycle, though, and he would not let Damian derail his case so easily.
He had an old friend to visit.
***
“Evening, Commissioner,” Red Robin said as he materialized from the shadows of Jim Gordon’s office.
Gordon startled, but regained his equilibrium quickly. “Red Robin.” He nodded in greeting. “I thought you might stop by.”
Tim eyed him warily. “You did?”
Gordon looked up at him. “You might even say a little bird told me.”
Oh no. First Steph, now Gordon?
“And what exactly did that little bird tell you?” He tried very hard to keep his voice pleasant.
“Hmm,” Gordon said unhelpfully, turning to look at Red Robin properly. “Well, you don’t seem to be on your deathbed. That’s encouraging.”
Tim grimaced. “I’m fine.”
“He said you would say that, but he didn’t have to. You bats are always fine, even when you aren’t,” the Commissioner noted shrewdly.
Tim crossed his arms, careful of his injuries, stance widening defensively. “We need to be.”
Gordon sighed. “I knew you would say that, too. But you know me. I’m a father, I worry.”
Tim relaxed, biting back on the warm smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I appreciate that, Commissioner. But there are still some dangerous elements on the loose, and I can’t let anyone else get hurt. Do you have any intel on the Black Jack Gang?”
Gordon leaned back in his chair, eyeing Red Robin speculatively. “And if I say they’ve been taken care of?”
“I’d say that I’d like to check on it myself.”
Gordon gave him another dubious once over before nodding and handing over a USB drive. “Fair enough. I can sympathize with wanting to see a case through. But go easy on yourself, kid. There’s plenty of Gotham to go around.”
***
After two boring nights of following Robin’s annoyingly perfect paper and goon trails through the city, Red Robin took extreme measures and put in a call to the one person that wouldn’t be swayed by violence or Tim’s well-being.
The following night, Red Robin headed for their scheduled rendezvous point, keeping an eye out for interfering little brats as he went.
Rooftop meetings were a tad cliché in their line of work, but they were cliche for a reason. Plenty of space, low chance of interruption, and a great aesthetic. What more could a vigilante ask for? Unfortunately, not being able to swing meant that Tim had to get there by less glamorous means.
By the time he crested the top of the fire escape, his associate was already there.
“Hood.” Tim nodded.
Jason smirked. “Poor little bird,” he said and gestured to the fire escape with his cigarette. “Looks like someone clipped your wings.”
Tim pursed his lips in annoyance. “Do you have the information I asked for?”
“Right down to business tonight, then? Where’s your sense of brotherly love?”
Grimacing, Tim crossed his arms. “Brotherly love is the last thing I want to talk about right now.”
“Ouch,” Jason said, flicking his cigarette away. “You know, that really stings, Replacement. Right here,” He placed his hand over his heart with a dramatic flourish.
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t -” Tim’s proximity meter beeped. Damian was within two miles of their position. “Shit,” he cursed. “Not now.”
Jason tensed, eyes scanning the rooftops for incoming danger. “What is it?”
“No time,” Tim said, turning back to the fire escape. He could make it.
“Oh no you don’t.” Jason’s hand curled around Tim’s bicep, vice tight. “What the hell is incoming?”
“You’ll be fine, Jason.” Tim grabbed Jason’s wrist and tried to jerk his arm away. “Now let me go.”
“Like I’m going to believe that.”
The proximity meter beeped twice. One mile.
No time to run. Time for plan B. “Believe what you want.” Tim let go of Jason’s wrist and twisted around behind Jason, breaking the hold on his bicep as he went. “Now just...” Tim inched to the side, behind Jason. With Damian’s regular patrol and his speed of approach he should be coming from over there and “...don’t move.”
“The fuck is wrong with you, Pretender?” Jason said, twisting to try and face Tim.
“What part of don’t move is so hard to understand?” Tim said, grabbing Jason’s shoulders and turning him back around. “Now face forward and look busy.”
“The fuck?”
“Shut up. I’m not here. I’ve never been here. You haven’t seen me all night,” Tim instructed as he gathered up his cape and pulled it tight around himself so there was no chance of a passing breeze ruining his hiding spot.
“Fucking hell. You’ve gone crazy,” Jason grumbled. But he got out his lighter and a new cigarette and with a few flicks lit it.
He took a long slow drag and exhaled a gusty cloud of smoke. “You’d tell me if we were about to die.” It was less a question and more of a statement.
Tim resisted the urged to gag at the acrid smell of the smoke. “Yes,” he hissed quietly. “Trust me, you’re not in any danger.”
“But you are,” Jason muttered back.
“I’m not here. Stop talking to me,” Tim said.
Jason went obligingly silent, proceeding to make an awful cloud of putrid smoke as they waited. “Well, well, well,” Jason said conversationally after a few good puffs. “Looks like the little demon is out without an escort again.”
Tim winced, shuffling closer to Jason to make sure he was completely hidden, and said nothing.
“And he just flies on by,” Jason continued, “All of these family feelings tonight are getting to be too much. I don’t know if I can take it.”
Tim refused to breathe a sigh of relief until the proximity meter beeped to inform him that Damian was two miles away again. Then he stepped out from behind Jason, letting his cape drop as he did, and took a wonderful breath of fresh Gotham air.
“You gonna tell me what that was all about?” Jason said, turning to face Tim and flicking ash at him.
“Don’t worry about it,” Tim said. “Let’s just do what we came here for so we can both get on with our nights.”
“Oh I’m sorry,” Jason said before puffing smoke into Tim’s face. “Does this look like concern? What the fuck just happened?”
“Damn it, Jason. Look, I’m very thankful for your help-”
“Damn straight. You owe me one,” Jason interrupted.
“-but if we could just move on to our business...” Tim trailed off, giving Jason a pointed look as he crossed his arms stubbornly.
Jason eyed Tim appraisingly. Taking one last drag, he flicked his cigarette away. “Fine. But I will find out what’s going on, Replacement. Count on it.”
***
Tim came up from his Red Robin’s Nest and into his apartment, turning on lights as he went. He was exhausted and patrol had been frustrating, but at least he had cleared up a couple of things.
He trudged towards the kitchen. Time to get a cup of coffee before settling in for a long night of trawling through cases for new leads.
Tim flicked on the lights and startled back, arms raised defensively. There, sitting at his kitchen counter calmly as you please eating a carton of Ramen, was Jason.
"Hey, there's no Demon brat around hunting for your virginity, Pretender. So relax." Jason gestured with his spoon, “Also, your Ramen is stale. I didn’t even know that was possible.”
"I. You. Jason," Tim spluttered.
"That's my name, don't wear it out," Jason sing-songed with obvious delight.
Tim’s eyes narrowed as he edged around towards the coffee maker. "What do you even want?"
Jason scoffs. "What, you think you could act so weirdly and leave it like that?"
"...Yes?" Tim said, expression turning hopeful.
"No, no, no,” Jason said, shaking his head. “You got me all curious. I had to investigate. It’s in the blood, you see."
"So what, you'd thought you'd stop by for milk and cookies?" Tim ground out.
"Not my style.” Jason tapped his Ramen bowl with his spoon and grinned. “I am up for story time, though."
Tim finally reached the coffee maker and began making coffee. "What are you, five?"
"Nah, thirteen at least. I like my big boy stories.” Jason set his chin on his hands. “Now spill."
Tim raised a skeptical eyebrow at Jason, before pointedly turning back to the coffee maker.
"Well, if you're not up for story time, maybe your little prince charming is?” Jason took out his communicator with a flourish.” I'm sure he'd be happy to share."
"No! Stop!" Tim whirled away from the coffee maker and lunged for the device.
Jason held his communicator high in the air, waving it out of Tim’s reach. "Start talkin', Babybird."
Tim clenched his fists, mutinously staring Jason down, before grinding out, "What do you even want to know?"
"Oh, everything. But I'll settle for how this started. Is he leaving corpses as presents outside your place or something?"
"No, just..." Tim trailed off, bringing a hand up over his face and grimacing.
"I can't hear you Pretender."
"He gave me flowers," Tim blurted out.
Jason threw his head back and howled with laughter.
Tim looked around for something to throw. "It's not funny!"
"Were they roses?” Tim’s scowl deepened. “Oh, they were, weren't they?"
"Shut. Up."
"A dozen red roses just for Timmy-Poo."
Tim groaned and slumped against the counter, putting his head in his arms. "I just don't know how to make him stop!"
"Well, have you tried asking him?" Jason asked, a smirk tugging at his lips, but no longer laughing.
"I...sort of," Tim faltered.
Jason snorted. "How do you 'sort of' ask someone to stop courting you? Come on, I'm curious."
"You know what they say about curiosity," Tim said.
Jason waved him off. "Satisfaction has brought me back before. I'm sure it will do it again."
Tim grimaced. "Well…” he began slowly, trying to frame the situation in the least embarrassing way possible, “Bruce and Dick were there and then I just...didn't get the chance."
"Uh huh."
"I tried!"
"Hey. I believe you, Babybird. But you're gonna have to tell the brat. Otherwise the next thing you know he's going to start trying to take you out on dates and give you lavish gifts and try and pamper you and woo you and-" Jason paused as Tim’s shoulders hunched, face buried in his hands. “Seriously?” Jason exclaimed. He clutched his side with one hand and grabbed the counter with his other before he could fall out of his chair laughing.
"Go away," Tim mumbled into his hands.
Jason’s laughter eventually died down, and he leaned forward across the counter to roughly ruffle Tim’s hair. "Sure thing. But hey, if you need any more romantic advice, you know where I am.” He gave Tim’s shoulder a playful punch. “Go get 'em, lover boy."
With that, Jason got off his barstool, walked into the living room, slid a window open and climbed out, cackling all the while.
Tim glanced up in time to see him go. The jerk had even left his empty Ramen container on the counter. Ugh. Tim groaned and put his head back down. Why did Jason have to be right?
***
The next afternoon, Tim arrived at Wayne Manor, determined to put an end to this. It wasn’t hard to find Damian. He was by himself, working away at one of the computers in the Cave. Tim took a deep breath. Time to do this while everyone else was still upstairs.
“Damian,” Tim said as neutrally as he could. He could do this, he could totally do this.
The brat swiveled in his chair and stood up. “Timothy.”
“Could I have a word with you?” This would all be over soon.
“There is something I wish to say first.”
Oh no. Was Damian actually going to confess? “Actually,” Tim said quickly, “I really need to tell you something.”
“I believe my concern is much more pressing. Are your wounds healing appropriately?”
“What? Yes, I’m fine. Look, Damian - ”
“And are you eating well?”
“That’s none of your business. We really need to talk about - ”
“You may tell it to me later this evening. You will accompany me to dinner this evening.” Damian sat down and turned back to his work. “I will make the appropriate reservations.”
No. Tim grabbed the back of Damian’s chair, turning Damian back to face him. Damian stared up at him, one unimpressed eyebrow raised. “No, Damian, I will not be accompanying you tonight. This has gone on for long enough but it really has to stop-”
“What has to stop, Timothy,” Damian bit back, “is the egregious way in which you treat yourself.”
“What’s wrong with the way I treat myself?”
“Have you not read the reports I have sent you? I described the numerous problems with your selfcare quite succinctly.
“Of course I haven’t read them.”
“And that is why we must go out to dinner.”
“Damn it, Damian. Listen to me!”
“Whoa, whoa, what’s all the ruckus?”
Before Tim could get a word in, Damian yelled, "Timothy will not accept my invitation to dinner!"
Dick’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. "Oh little D. I didn't -” Dick faltered. “Did you just call him Timothy?"
That was it. This had gone on too long. “No. I can’t do this. I am not going to dinner or anywhere with you Damian. I have tried to be nice about this, but I don’t like you like that. Okay? So just stop. I’m not interested.” Dick and Damian were both staring at him. Realizing how harsh his words were he awkwardly muttered a quick, insincere, “Sorry.”
The silence in the cave was deafening. Dick glanced back and forth between Damian and Tim with the distinctive look of someone who had been hit with a large fish.
"Dami...do you like Tim?" Dick asked finally.
Damian frowned. "Of course not, Grayson."
Dick and Tim turned to one another, perplexed.
"You...don't?" Tim looked skeptically at Damian.
"Why would you think I like you?" the boy retorted.
"But, but…,” Tim’s mind flashed over the past few weeks. All the signs, all the build-up. “The flowers... the gifts...asking me out on dates..."
“Wait, wait, what?” Dick said.
Damian shrugged. "Pennyworth suggested them."
Tim’s mind reeled. Alfred? Alfred was the cause of all this?
Dick took a deep breath and said, "Dami, what did you ask him? Specifically."
For the first time since the conversation began Damian actually looked embarrassed. He flushed slightly and looked at the floor as he said, “I merely wanted to show Timothy that I do not hate him anymore.” He hesitated. “And that I wanted to apologize for my past behavior.”
Tim felt the strangest sensation of vertigo as his memories of Damian’s actions shifted to fit into this new context.
“But what about the ninjas and the reports and the stalking and, and the concern?”
“In the course of my attempts to apologize, I discovered the poor state of your health. I decided that took precedence over my apology.”
That...made sense. Tim didn’t know what to say.
Dick was positively beaming at the two of them. “Damian, why don’t you go ahead and make those dinner reservations for four? I’m sure Bruce would love to join us.”
Damian blinked and gave Dick an odd look before nodding.
“Great!” Dick clapped them both on the shoulder. “I’ll go tell him and we can head out.”
With that, he bounded back upstairs, leaving Tim and Damian alone in the cave once again.
They stood silently, avoiding each other’s gaze until finally Damian spoke. “I must make the arrangements - ”
"Thank you,” Tim began a half second after Damian, “for all the, you know...things.”
Damian trailed off and then nodded stiffly. “Of course and...I apologize once again. For...before.”
Tim wondered what exactly it was Damian was apologizing for before remembering that incident a few weeks back...right before the roses incident. He snorted to himself and offered Damian a lopsided smile. "Accepted. And...I don't hate you, too, by the way."
Damian harrumphed, crossing his arms. "If you had merely said that from the beginning it would have saved us all a great deal of trouble."
Tim rolled his eyes and started back towards the Manor. "You're such a brat."
"Tt." Damian fell into step beside him, his phone out as he fiddled with it, presumably making reservations.