DCU FIC: New Kings Among Runaways, Family Vacation, Tim/Jason
Hello, everyone. First, a PSA - If you can't post to LJ right now but you are not on one of the affected clusters, it is because you have posting access to a community on one of the clusters and LJ doesn't know what to do so it's freaking out.
There's a work-around for this - post using semagic or another client, which is what I finally figured out to do to get this post out.
Now, for the good stuff.
It's only been two years since the last update to Kings Among Runaways ^_^; Hopefully the length of this one will make up for it? A little? If anyone is still interested... Unfortunately, the length and LJ's post limits means this is broken into two sections.
Title: Family Vacation
Series Kings Among Runaways
Authors: iesika and glymr
Fandom: DCU
Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne, Janet Drake, Jack Drake, Surprise Characters Pairing: Jason/TimSummary: "Do you really think she's going to let me go?" Rating/Warnings: PG-13ish
This story is also available on AO3.
They're in Bruce's private jet - though not one of the the private private jets... This one's got a big WE logo painted on the side. The cabin is probably meant for about fifteen, but there's only the two of them in it. Jason's beside him despite all the empty seats, trying to pretend like he's asleep. Tim takes his hand - gently enough that he can preserve the illusion if he wants.
It's Jason's first time in an airplane. Tim had thought Jason was going to vomit, when they'd first lifted off, but wonder had taken over by the time they got far enough up to stop seeing individual people on the ground. Jason had been thoroughly bored by the time they crossed the Mississippi.
It could be a metaphor, really. Bruce's intervention in their lives, bringing them to the manor... Jason had been positively sick with fear. He'd tried to hide it, of course. He always does, when he's afraid. Tim's not sure if that's a holdover from his life on the street or something deeper about Jason, but it makes him lash out at things that frighten him.
Sometimes that means Tim. But...he thinks they're mostly over that now. They're past the moment of liftoff, and Jason isn't just letting Tim hold his hand so that Jason can quietly steady himself. Jason's never really going to be sappy, but... He's sweet.
Even when he was fighting for their lives every day, protecting them both behind a shield of bravado and the threat of violence... he's always been sweet. Sweet to Tulio, sweet to Rosa, and even sweet to Tim. So sweet to Tim, now that he's stopped fighting their attraction. As long as no one else is looking. Tim smirks down at him and bends his head to kiss him on the cheek.
Jason's face twitches slightly, and his breath hitches, but he doesn't open his eyes. Maybe he really is asleep then. Tim carefully disengages their hands and leaves their little couch, headed for the galley.
It feels strange to be walking freely about the small aircraft, even though Bruce's piloting is so smooth that they might as well be parked on the runway. Tim had flown a few times with his parents, always first class, or business at the worst. Still, this absolute freedom... Tim could do a cartwheel in the wide aisle if he felt like it. He could go sit in the cockpit. Bruce would probably show him the controls, maybe let him play copilot. It would give him something to focus on that wasn't the looming specter of the American Midwest.
Alfred is making coffee when Tim steps into the small galley. He always seems to read Tim's mind, anticipate his cravings. Sometimes he wonders if the old man is a telepath. There are weirder things out there. Tim needs to get used to factoring for them. "That smells amazing."
"Of the many benefits of avoiding commercial flight," Alfred says as he pushes down on the plunger of a small French press. "...avoiding commercial coffee is not the least." He pours the coffee into three cups, drops two spoonfuls of sugar into one, stirs it, and hands it to Tim.
Heaven in a cup. There was a time, not too long ago, when Tim would sometimes walk half a mile from their squat for the free coffee in the lobby of a branch bank. Alfred's coffee doesn't belong on the same planet as that memory. Tim blows on it, too hot to drink, and just breathes in the smell of it. "Thanks, Alfred."
"My pleasure, sir." When Alfred says things like that, he always sounds like he really means it. Unless he sounds like he's laying into Bruce for bad behavior. Tim can't help smiling, despite his nerves. The china cup, warm in his hands, is a comfort. Alfred's smiling eyes are even more so.
They stand there companionably waiting for their coffee to cool. Alfred spoons sugar into the third cup, tops it up with milk... Bruce and Jason, somewhat ironically, prefer their coffee the same way. Tim's not sure who the cup is for. "Do you really think she's going to let me go?"
The words spill out before Tim knows they're even in his mind. It's possible that's because he's been thinking of little else for several days now.
Alfred takes a slow sip of his coffee, eyes closed in appreciation, or maybe thought. "I think," he says, setting the cup carefully aside, "that Master Bruce will assure that you have the best life possible, with the kind of care that you deserve."
Tim swallows. That was pretty politic, even for Alfred, but Tim thinks he can read the meaning under it.
If his mother wants him to stay...Bruce might think Tim should.
Well...crap.
Tim doesn't doubt for an instant that if he runs away again, Jason will come with him. They've come that far, at least. What he doesn't know is what will happen if Bruce makes Tim stay with her. Would Jason stay with Bruce in Gotham? Would he bolt? Would he find a way to get to Kansas. Maybe...maybe Tim could make a condition to his cooperation - he won't run away again if Bruce sets Jason up with an apartment close to his mother's house? Gets him into Tim's school?
They've agreed that Jason won't be there when he meets his parents for the first time in most of a year. It would be hard to explain. She might blame the other boy, somehow, for getting Tim into trouble... no. Better to keep him clear of things until Tim knows what the outcome will be. If she won't give up custody, if she tries to press some kind of charges, better for her never to know Jason's role in things.
Tim almost certainly shouldn't tell her that he's homosexual.
"Master Timothy," Alfred says, interrupting his thoughts. When Tim looks up from the dark mirror of his coffee, the man's eyes are soft, understanding. "Perhaps you could take Master Bruce his coffee while I finish preparing lunch."
A distraction, just when he needs it most. An excuse to invade the cockpit. A reason to talk to Bruce.
Alfred probably is telepathic.
"Sure," Tim says. What he means is 'thanks.' Alfred inclines his head as if he'd heard the word.
Jay is snoring slightly when Tim walks past. He pauses and sets the cups down while he finds a blanket to cover him with, and then he carries them up to the front of the plane, knocking with his toe at the base of the open door before slipping inside. Bruce looks up from the instrument panel as Tim enters, giving him - or perhaps the cups in his hands - a slight smile. "I thought I smelled coffee."
Tim slips into the copilot's seat and hands Bruce his cup. Apparently flying a plane does not require the use of hands, because Bruce sort of leans back in the seat and breathes in over the cup before taking a sip. Tim mirrors him, watching the stick move without guidance. "Autopilot?"
"Mn." Bruce agrees. He communes with his coffee for a little while. Tim sits there, staring out at the blue, blue sky, unsure what to say.
What finally comes out...he wishes he could take back.
"Not all parents are good parents." Tim doesn't turn his head, so he's not sure if Bruce is looking at him or not. He can feel his face heating, but he's already committed, so he plows on. "I know yours... I know it might be hard. To, um, put yourself in my place. And you probably think I'm...ungrateful, or something. I know...I know you must wish you could get yours back."
Bruce isn't saying a word. Not even one of those enigmatic humming sounds he likes so much, the ones that Tim's noticed himself starting to use. Which of course drives Jason absolutely crazy...
Tim...looks.
Bruce is watching him. A movement catches Tim's eye, and his eyes dart down to where the milky liquid in Bruce's cup...shakes. It's barely perceptible, and over quickly. Tim doesn't know what it means. He tries to read Bruce's face, but the man is like a wall. He's pretty much the expert at poker faces.
Until, suddenly, he isn't. Bruce's eyes go soft, and he shakes his head, his lips curling into a slight, rueful smile. "I'm aware that parents are fallible, Tim. I don't expect them all to be perfect. I know that yours haven't been."
Tim swallows. "But you want me to give them another chance."
"I want..." Bruce pauses and sips his coffee, dragging the motion out to give himself time to think, to phrase. "I want what's best for you."
A sudden flash of anger burns its way through him, and Tim has to set his cup aside so that he doesn't spill hot coffee on himself or crush the fragile china. "And you don't think I can judge that for myself." It comes out bitter, hot, louder than he'd intended. "I've been taking care of myself just fine for months. I've been - I thought you were going to treat us like adults? You offered us training. You said we're almost ready to start working the streets. You- I don't understand! How you can say that, and do that, and still think I can't make this decision for myself?"
Bruce's eyes are steady on him, soft, still, but unreadable. He sits quietly until Tim's breathing calms, until Tim starts to feel queasy in the passing of that wave of sudden fury and hurt.
"On the contrary," Bruce finally says. He takes another interminable sip of coffee. "The purpose of this trip is to allow you to make that decision. You, Tim. Not the boy you were a year ago."
Tim blinks. He feels his lips part. "Oh." He looks down, staring at the floor.
Bruce sets down his own coffee and reaches out to lay one big hand on Tim's shoulder. Tim glances up at him. Bruce opens his mouth as though to say something else, then closes it, smiling ruefully. He gives Tim's shoulder a little squeeze and lets go. "Why don't you go wake up Jason? We'll be landing soon."
Tim nods and beats a hasty retreat.
Jason's yawning and blinking when Tim comes back through the door to the main cabin.
"Hey," says Tim. "Want some coffee?"
Jason stretches, arching back until his shirt rides up and his joints pop. Tim watches, letting himself be obvious about it, earning a smirk. "Nah, thanks. I'm good."
Tim shakes his head. "I don't know how anyone could say 'no' to Alfred's coffee."
Jason just grins and shrugs, scratching the back of his head and yawning again. "That's - ah - more your thing than mine."
With a nod, Tim settles next to Jason on the couch. "We'll be landing pretty soon. We should probably fasten our seatbelts." Jason's brows draw together, his shoulders tensing a little. "Ah...I think you'll find landing even easier than taking off. Especially with Bruce flying. He's an excellent pilot."
Jason's expression turns thoughtful. He glances at Tim, then gets up and crosses the cabin to settle into his seat and fasten his seatbelt. Tim takes the seat next to him and fastens his own.
"You've flown a lot, huh?" Jason's staring out the window.
"Uh...a few times. My parents used to travel all the time." Tim's quiet for a moment. Jason knows he ran away when his parents got divorced, but there's a lot Tim's never told him. He takes a breath. "Most of the time they left me at home. It was...kind of a pattern. They'd take a trip somewhere, for a month or two. When they came back, they'd both be in a good mood, cheerful and pleased with themselves and each other. After a week or so, though, they'd start fighting again. After two weeks they would be sniping at each other constantly. After about three weeks, they would leave on another trip, and...I was usually glad, by that point. It was always kind of a relief." He slides his eyes sideways. Jason's not looking out the window anymore, but he's not looking at Tim, either. He's staring straight ahead, frowning slightly.
"When I was twelve, they took a trip to Haiti." Tim closes his eyes. "They were kidnapped."
Jason jerks next to him. "Holy shit!"
Swallowing, Tim goes on, "The police tried to track the ransom, but..." he shrugs. "Nobody heard from my parents for about a month."
"So...you were all alone?"
"It wasn't really any different from what I was used to, except I didn't know if they would be coming back."
There's a long moment of quiet between them. "And your parents...?"
Tim opens his eyes and focuses on the back of the seat in front of him. "It took them a long time to make it back. By the time they did... their company was going under, partly because of the bad publicity, but mainly because that's where the ransom money came from. Dad poured their personal savings into trying to save it but..." He shakes his head. "They lost everyth-" He stops himself and looks at Jason for a moment before correcting himself. "They lost a lot. No real income, and all their property got foreclosed on. Things got messy. My Mom..." he thinks back to her coming home late from a party, giggling and tipsy in her designer dress while Tim ate ramen noodles and went over his notes on the latest sightings of Batman and Robin. "I think she didn't want to admit it was all over."
Jason's quiet, listening. He's got a sort of...puzzled look on his face, like he can't quite understand the story, but Tim can tell he's trying. He forgets, sometimes, what different worlds they come from.
"They lost their jobs," Tim says in summary. "Lost all their money, went into debt. Mom found some guy who would buy her nice things." Jason grunts. That sort of thing is familiar at least, Tim supposes. "Dad pretended not to know about it, but he found a job in Europe and never said a word about mom coming with him. And then they split up, and I pawned the last of my camera equipment and took off. It didn't even seem like a hard choice, at the time - just something I had to do."
Jason looks serious. "You know that's not normal, right?" Tim's heart starts to flutter in worry, but Jason goes on. "They must have been terrible, if you wouldn't stay with them."
Tim shakes his head. "They weren't that bad. They never hit me, or anything. They never even yelled at me."
"Because they weren't there," Jason says. He squeezes Tim's hand, and there's a...hard sort of light in his eyes. It makes Tim swallow and look away. "It's probably a good thing Bruce wants us to wait for you. I'd hate to have to punch your mother in front of you."
Tim can't help the sharp laugh that bursts out of him. "Jason!" He swats him on the arm. Jason turns, grinning at him, and then his face goes rigid as the jet starts to descend more rapidly. Tim holds onto his hand. "Hey. I have an idea."
"What?" Jason says, and if Tim didn't know him so well, he probably wouldn't have heard the tension in his voice.
"Bruce is flying. Alfred's buckled up in the back." Tim leans a little closer. "Kiss me. Until we land. Just kiss me."
Jay takes a deep breath, looking at him with his eyes unguarded. He leans to close the distance between them, pressing his lips softly to Tim's.
It's another fifteen minutes before they land. Bruce takes them down so smoothly that it's not until Alfred clears his throat behind them that Tim realizes they're on the ground.
***
Tim would have expected to catch a taxi, or maybe to head for the rental car counter. Instead, there's a car waiting for them on the tarmac. Alfred just nods once at the driver, and the man steps away from the car and lets Alfred take his place, engine still running. Bruce puts his hand on Jason's shoulder to stop him from getting in until Alfred gets out of the car again and opens the door to the back for them. Tim's not sure if it's part of the Bruce Wayne act or just security procedure.
The ride is quiet, tense. Tim sits with his knees together, hands in his lap, staring down at the torn cuticle on his right thumb. Jason is next to him, shoulder against Tim's despite the wide back seat, which probably means he's not buckled in. Tim's too grateful for the touch to lecture him, and anyway, the road is mostly empty.
They pass an occasional farmhouse or barn, most of them a little run down, some of them just abandoned. Occasionally they see a group of men working in the morning sun. Tim can't imagine his mother living here.
The houses start to get closer together after a little while, and he realizes they've got to be approaching a small town. Tim feels sicker and sicker the bigger the houses get. This was what his mom had talked about. Land was so cheap out here, she could have the house of her dreams, big enough to throw parties and fill with all her antiques. And there was Jeff's new job, of course.
Tim can't even remember what his mother's boyfriend does for a living.
"Maybe I should go with you," Jason blurts into the silence. Tim is too surprised to say anything, but he turns to look at Jason, who is biting his lip and searching Tim's face. "Seriously, Tim, you don't... you don't have to do this by yourself."
"Jason," Bruce starts to say from the front seat, "we all discussed-" but Jason just talks over him.
"You don't have to do this at all. I still don't get why you couldn't just dye your hair or something, get some glasses-"
Tim cuts him off with a hand on his arm. "I'll be fine." When he says it, it starts to become true. It's more important to reassure Jason right now than it is to fall apart quietly in his seat from an overdose of nervous tension. "We're going to end up on the news or something eventually. People are going to take our picture. We're going to start school. Bruce has people working for him that used to work for my parents. Wayne Enterprises pretty much ate the R&D department. Someone would recognize me sooner or later."
"Superman puts on a pair of glasses and nobody knows who he is," Jason argues.
"There's a change of context," Bruce says. "Clark Kent is a reporter, with a relatively unknown face. Tim would be going from one prominent Gotham business family to another. That makes it much harder to hide in plain sight."
"I still think you could have done something!" Jason insists. "You're good at disguises and things. You could make him a new name and everything-"
Tim squeezes Jason's shoulder and turns to him, putting his other hand on Jason's thigh. "It doesn't matter. I need to do this. I have to. If I keep hiding, running away, I'll be hiding forever." He realizes the truth of what he's saying even as he hears his voice shaping the words. "I've been worrying every day that they'd find me and make me go back. And if I get found out now, Bruce will be in a lot of trouble. They might even charge him with kidnapping. It would be way more attention than he needs."
"Fuck that," Jason snaps. "He loves attention."
"-the wrong kind of attention, then."
He hears Bruce laughing, and turns to the front, to see Bruce watching him in the mirror. "Tim," he says his smile fading. "Don't worry about me. Jason's right. If you don't want to do this, we'll find a way to deal with it."
Tim stops to think, looking up periodically at Bruce's eyes reflected in the mirror, over to Jason frowning beside him. "No," he says. "No, I need to do this. I need to see them. To say goodbye, if nothing else."
"I could still go with you," Jason says, sullenly.
"Then who would help me with the bags?" Alfred pipes up suddenly. He's been so quiet that Tim had almost forgotten he was present, even though he was driving the car. "Master Jason, I am very, very old. Surely you won't leave me to haul your suitcases up the stairs on my own."
"You got them in the car just fine, you manipulative old-"
"Jason!" Tim says, scandalized, but he can't help smiling. In the mirror, Bruce's eyes are sparkling.
"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," Alfred says primly.
***
The house is...well, it’s huge, of course. But more than that, it’s ostentatious. Which isn’t actually a surprise, Tim supposes.
He can feel Jason tensing beside him. The other boy leans across him to peer out the window, tilting his head back to stare up at the house.
Tim tenses, too. In Jason’s world, people that came from houses like this were either the enemy, or someone to be taken advantage of...or both. They still are, in many ways, for all he’s living in a mansion himself these days.
Tim knows that Jason doesn’t class Tim in with the...the kids born “with silver spoons up their asses”. It doesn’t change the fact that Tim *was* one of those kids.
Jason draws back and wraps his hand around Tim’s, squeezing it.
Tim takes a breath and makes himself relax. “It will be all right,” he says, answering the unspoken question in Jason’s eyes. He leans forward and kisses Jason, quick and light and daring, then lets go of his hand and opens the door before Jason can react.
“I’ll be here if you need me,” he hears Jason say just before the heavy door closes, its mirrored windows cutting them off from each other and leaving him facing his own reflection.
I know, Tim thinks.
He walks up to the door - it’s a huge, double door in an ornate style, and pushes the doorbell, Bruce a reassuring presence at his side.
A distant chime rings out. Moments later, a woman Tim doesn’t recognize answers the door. She nods and gives them a small smile. “Just through here, please,” she says politely, escorting the two of them through the wide front hall and across the marble floor. There’s no sound but the quiet tapping of their shoes as she leads them to a large wooden door and swings it open, gesturing for them to precede her inside.
Tim steps into the room, his feet suddenly sinking into the soft pile of the carpet. The room is a study - his mom’s study, he decides. He recognizes some of the pieces on the desk and shelves.
Also, his mom is sitting behind the dark wooden desk.
“Tim.” She rises and comes over to him. She puts her hands on his shoulders and looks down at him for a long moment. He forces himself to look back, to meet her eyes steadily. After perhaps ten seconds of this, she pulls him against her in a hug.
Tim stiffens, unsure. She smells like her favorite perfume, and the cold metal of her necklace presses against his skin. “Thank goodness you’re all right,” she says, and then, “How can we ever thank you?” She releases Tim and turns away, all her attention now focused on Bruce Wayne. Tim takes a step back as Bruce steps forward, shaking his head.
"It was the least I could do, Janet."
A voice to his left calls his name quietly, and Tim looks up to see another occupant of the room, one he hadn’t noticed before. If this were a test of his observation skills, Tim thinks distantly, he would have failed.
His dad comes forward, and then Tim’s being hugged again. He hardly has time to register the impression of his father’s suit before he’s let go, his dad looking down at him seriously. “Are you all right, son?”
Tim swallows. He manages a nod, and a relatively normal-sounding, “I’m fine, dad.”
His dad sighs. “What made you pull such a stunt, Tim?”
Tim looks at the floor. “I’m sorry.”
He’s not.
He's been in the same room with his parents for all of a minute and he's already back to keeping secrets.
“Well, it’s over now. You can come home.” Tim glances up at that. His father isn’t looking at him anymore, he’s frowning a little and looking at the wall. “My flat is pretty small, but I’m sure I can find something-”
“What are you talking about?” his mom cuts in. “Tim’s going to live here, with us.”
His father looks across at his mother. “What? You can’t be serious.”
His mom’s eyes narrow. “And why not?”
“Janet, if he’d wanted to live with you, he would have come with you in the first place.” His dad’s voice is almost pleading.
“Well, he’ll want to now,” says Janet coldly. “We’re going to California next week. And the week after that-” she hesitates for a moment, then goes on, “South America! He always wanted to come with us on our trips, and now he’s old enough to take care of himself-” she smiles down at Tim, “unless of course he wants to stay in the house on his own. We can put in a darkroom for him. And I know when I was a teenager-”
Jack looks at Tim a little helplessly. “But wouldn’t you rather come to Europe with me?” he says. “I know you don’t know the language, but-”
“Jack!” Her tone is annoyed.
It’s all so familiar, and at the same time, utterly surreal.
“Coffee, anyone?” The door swings open and a man comes in carrying a tray laden with a pot, cups and a tray of expensive cookies. He’s tall and blonde and good-looking in a movie-star kind of way. Tim only met him a few times before... before.
“Jeff!” Janet’s voice is still exasperated, but now there’s a warmth to the tone. “I keep telling you to leave that kind of thing to the maid.”
“And I keep telling you,” he says, putting down the tray and sliding an arm around her waist to casually kiss her on the cheek, “that we don’t need a maid. We’re hardly ever even here-”
“You knew I liked to travel when you married me-”
“Married?” The word is out of Tim’s mouth before he can stop himself, and then he wishes he could take it back as all their eyes turn to him. “You’re...” He looks over at Bruce. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought you knew,” says Bruce, his voice subdued.
"No, I - " It shouldn't be such a shock. His mother had been with Jeff for... well, he isn't sure how long. Probably at least a year and a half? They'd been living together for nine months or so. There's really only one thought in his mind, now, and it comes out before he can stop it. "When? I talked to you in November, and you never mentioned..."
He knows his mother. He knows she and Jeff didn't have a whirlwind weekend in Vegas. She had probably started planning the wedding before the ink was dry on the divorce papers, and she'd never even once mentioned it to Tim.
"Valentines Day," Jeff says with a warm smile down at his new wife. Tim has to remind himself that it would be wrong to label the man as an idiot just because he's missing some of the undercurrents here. His mom must be feeling it, though, because she's watching Tim now instead of looking up at her new husband.
Can't let a little thing like a missing son ruin all that planning. They'd probably already paid the caterers.
"I was going to ask you to give me away," his mom says softly. "Before-"
"Before you noticed I was gone," Tim says. How like his mom, to plan on Tim’s presence at her wedding but not actually bother to discuss it with him. He shakes his head, turning to look at Bruce. Something tightens just slightly at the corner of the man's eyes. It's that more than anything else that makes him realize he's made the decision he needed to, today.
Jack’s voice is harsh. “So you’re planning on dragging Tim with you on your extended honeymoon all over the world?”
Janet raises an eyebrow at him and leans into Jeff’s side. “As if you didn’t have that pretty little French girl-”
His dad’s face turns a dull red. “She’s hardly a girl, she’s older than you!”
“Well thank you for the compliment-”
“She’s a Professor of-”
“I’m sure she’s very accomplished-”
“At least I waited until the papers were signed!”
“So!” Jeff’s voice cuts through the bitter words. “It's good to see you again, Tim.” He steps forward and holds out his hand. A sudden silence envelopes the room as Tim’s parents very obviously remember that he’s there.
Tim shrinks in on himself a little more, then makes himself meet the man’s eyes and shake his hand.
“I know we’ve met before," Jeff says, "but that was awhile ago.” He gives Tim a small wink. “You want to go out back and toss the ball around, get to know each other a little while we let these two fight things out?”
Tim blinks. It takes him a minute to realize that the man is giving him an out. “I-” he says, then stops. The instinct to escape, to flee, is strong. “Thanks,” he says, and means it, “but I’d better wait until they figure out who should get me.” His mom will probably win. She almost always did. On the other hand, once in awhile his father would be stubborn and dig his heels in-
“Well, which one do you want to live with?” Jeff asks, his tone reasonable.
The question catches him off guard. He looks up at the other man, startled. “What?”
“Which one do you want to live with? With your dad in Europe, or with your mom and me?”
This is it. Tim looks up at him and takes a breath. “I...Neither. I want to go back to Gotham.”
The room goes silent.
“I - I have friends there. People I care about. People that...care about me. Gotham is...my home.”
The words sound thin in the silence. It goes on for another several moments. Tim holds Jeff’s eyes, not daring to look at his parents’ faces. Jeff looks surprised.
“Absolutely not.” His father’s voice is angry. “You’re our son, Tim. We love you. You can’t just-”
“Your father’s right,” his mom cuts in. “As much as we appreciate Mr. Wayne taking you in-”
“Mom-”
“You need to come home, Tim. You’re our responsibility. You-”
“Dad-”
The last time he remembers them fighting like this - one of the very last times they’d fought, as far as he knows - they were arguing about who would HAVE to take him. Tim gulps back the hysterical laughter that wants to rise to his lips and looks at the floor.
“Tim.” Bruce’s voice is gentle. “Why don’t you wait for me in the car? I have a few things to discuss with your parents.”
“Or I can give you a tour of the place,” adds Jeff. He leans forward and adds in a stage whisper. “We can get into your mom’s stash of Ben and Jerry’s. I won’t tell if you won’t.” His breath smells like onions.
“I...” Tim looks at Bruce. “Thanks, but I think I’d rather wait in the car.” He turns away from them, from his mom and his dad and Jeff. Bruce follows him to the door of the study and opens it for him. For a brief moment, his hand is on Tim’s shoulder, and he gives it a reassuring squeeze.
“Don’t worry,” he murmurs. It’s all done with such swift grace that Tim’s a little in awe. The other three people didn’t even notice.
Tim stares up at him and Bruce gives him a small smile before shutting the door and leaving Tim standing alone in the huge, empty hallway.
He really needs to see Jason, right now.
* * *
Continued...