YJ fanfic, Bart/Tim, semi-fixit-fic
LJ's a nice place to visit, but I suck at living here.
I'm working on the next bits for the House of El series and the sequel to "Saving Grace", but I was craving Bart/Tim and this happened. It's a weird style for me, so any critical feedback would be useful.
Title: The Fifth Sacred Thing
Fandom: DC comics
Pairing/Characters: Tim/Bart
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Spans end of YJ through recent canon, veers AU shortly after OYL.
Disclaimer: Sadly, they belong to DC. It could be worse--they could belong to Marvel.
Author's Note: Title from the book, The Fifth Sacred Thing, by Starhawk (yes, really, Starhawk. It’s awesome, go read it).
Word Count: 2644
Nobody had told Tim how lonely he would be.
It didn’t occur to him, either, to tell the truth. Before, he’d been a new Robin, learning and interacting and very busy all the time. He used to kick back with Oracle and Nightwing, run around the globe getting training, even hang around with Bruce and Alfred in the Cave. Then World Without Grownups happened, and Secret happened, and Tim was thrust into friendship with two of the most exasperating, wonderful people he’d ever met. Young Justice was born, and came to fruition when Cassie and Cissie joined. Anita rounded the team out nicely. They played baseball against aliens and messed around with the super-cycle and teased Robin about his anal-retentiveness--and then about his fake secret identity.
Then Donna and Lilith died, and everything was bad. Teams disbanded. Tim found himself patrolling Gotham for hours on the weekends--there was always something more to do, until one Saturday morning in that gray, pre-false dawn light, he realized everything was quiet. The usual round of stupid people, crimes looking for a place to happen, had filled his night, with less than usual number of career criminals. Kon was stuck in Smallville, of all places, going stir-crazy and threatening to brave the Bat just to get a little face-time with someone who didn’t say “y’all.” Bart wasn’t stuck, strictly, but he, Jay and Joan were still feeling their way around the relationship and Bart didn’t want to mess it up, especially not with Wally judging his every move. Cassie was still searching for a new school, and Cissie e-mailed like always with the usual updates on Elias. Anita had less time for e-mail, but sometimes they talked on the phone.
Tim . . . missed them.
He didn’t leap at the chance to join the Titans, though. The Titans were a commitment, a team with a history he wasn’t sure he and his friends would fit into. Unlike most of the Titans, they were all legacy heroes--Bart at least would one day be Flash, and if anything ever happened to Superman or Wonder Woman, there was no question of who would step into those roles. No Titans before them had ever stared down the “taking over for your mentor” gun barrel.
Yet he found himself in San Francisco, slowly working out new paradigms for old relationships. He and Kon fit back together best, slotting into best friend mode easily. He and Cassie . . . didn’t talk much, but that was at least as much Cassie’s fault as his own. She was so angry now, all the time, all Tim could do was be there for her, and be the best leader he could. Tim hadn’t been sure that would happen, but it did--he stepped in and Kon, Cassie and Bart followed. Maybe one day Cyborg or Kory could lead them, but today and forever they would be his, first. His team, his responsibility.
His failure, again. Tim despaired of ever being the kind of leader Nightwing was. He’d had to earn his leadership in Young Justice, and now that he had, he failed them. Failed Bart. It wasn’t the first time, to be sure, and surely wouldn’t be the last, but Tim hated it all the same. It was Bart. Bart was different. They’d all taken care of Bart, in part because the other boy was so naïve and in part because Tim cherished his exuberant innocence.
Then he read the library. Tim couldn’t say that Kid Flash’s amber eyes weren’t Impulse’s, because he was undeniably still Bart. But there was a coloring and depth that hadn’t belonged to Impulse, either a loss of innocence or a gain of knowledge, Tim couldn’t decide.
Tim did have to respect Bart’s decision, though. He led them, and he couldn’t if he didn’t know them. They talked, philosophized, trained, and sometimes dragged Kon away from Cassie long enough to watch zombie movies and throw popcorn at the screen. Sometimes Gar or Cyborg joined in. Tim came to enjoy talking with Bart, throwing around abstract ideas and playing the endless what-if game, able to throw around references to obscure things he’d read for fun or for Batman and know that Bart would get it.
No one else seemed to take Bart’s transformation seriously, though. Tim spent two separate nights nursing Bart through Wally-related depression. Kon thought the whole Kid Flash thing was weird, and Cassie just ruffled Bart’s hair and moved on. Kory, Gar, Cyborg and Raven didn’t know enough to say.
Bart started coming to Gotham. Randomly--and if anyone could do random it would be a speedster. He’d show up during Tim’s lunch hour to complain about his teachers, and how they penalized him for being right. Sometimes on patrol, too, though he never took on criminals himself. Mostly he tied them up once Robin finished with them, and hung out on the rooftops for awhile. Not long enough to annoy Batman, just enough time to touch base and exchange between-weekend gossip.
One of those occasions was a rainy night in Gotham. Thunder muttered threats in the distance, and the radar claimed sheets and heavy lightning would start up nearer to midnight, but for now it was still light enough not to keep everyone indoors. Robin had already had two close calls with wet roofs, and Oracle was riding close comm. on everyone, keeping watch in case something happened. Batgirl, of course, had little trouble with the water, and her full-face cowl kept her soaked hair from flopping into her eyes, as Tim’s was doing. Cass broke off patrol with him to catch up with Steph, and Tim spent a moment being envious of their costumes. Goosebumps were raised along his elbows where skin showed, and rain poured down his forehead in rivulets.
A splash of water accompanied Bart’s arrival. Robin dodged out of the way of a wall of water upset from a puddle. Kid Flash laughed and said he’d have to check the weather next time. They headed for the roofs. Robin took a break, munching on a soggy energy bar, while Kid Flash sat on the edge of a building and dangled his feet over, kicking them in the air.
No one was around to see the scary Robin smiling and teasing Kid Flash (except Big Sister, of course). Robin was off-again with Steph. Bart still missed Carol. Dana made awesome veggie casserole, Joan knew how to feed a speedster. Bart liked Audre Lorde’s more poetic Sister/Outsider, Tim preferred Patricia Hill Collin’s academic Black Feminist Thought. Wally was still an asshole. Dick was being all avoid-y and having issues. Kon and Cassie were the most cliché thing ever. Cissie had already started to look at colleges. They had another round of the “Yucatan peninsula crater was too small to kill the dinosaurs/no it wasn’t” debate. Robin dropped in on a very wet drug deal and interrogated the dealer while Kid Flash tied up the buyers.
Tim paused on the next rooftop to say good-bye; Bart had already been around longer than Batman usually tolerated Robin’s teammates in his city. Bart hugged him, and Tim didn’t think anything of it because this was Bart. This time, though, he felt Bart’s hands bunch into fists in his cape and Bart’s head seemed pressed awfully hard against Tim’s shoulder. Tim tightened his grip on Bart and pressed his face against Bart’s hair.
He wanted to say something reassuring, about getting through this and always being there for each other. That’s how he felt, with Bart pressed against him and shaking just a little. Tim wanted to take on the world, change it so it wouldn’t hurt Bart anymore, wanted to keep him safe.
Promises you can’t keep shouldn’t be made, and Tim wouldn’t know how to say it, anyway.
So he held him, and let Bart hold him back, and took a second to brush a strand of hair away from Bart’s face when they parted. Bart grabbed Tim’s hand before he could draw it back and squeezed, once. Tim squeezed back.
Kid Flash left in a shower of water.
Then Steph and his Dad and Kon died, and everything was bad. The JLA disbanded. Dick nearly followed the rest of Tim’s family. Jason came back evil and killing people. Bart vanished in to the speed force. Tim got through everything by rote, doing what he’d been taught and crying himself to sleep, and when that didn’t work, he drugged himself. He had to get enough sleep, and if that was the only way, so be it. Oracle was far away, Bruce and Dick there but distant, dealing with their own problems, Cass was--Tim lost track. Tim designed a new uniform and ran away when he could get away with it and tried to pretend he wasn’t well on his way to becoming a mad scientist, what with the cloning machine in the basement.
When Bart finally came back, Tim was a wreck.
He must have talked to Cassie first, because when Bart showed up on the manor’s doorstep, cab pulling away because Bart, of all speedsters, couldn’t use his powers, the first thing he did was hug Tim. It didn’t matter that he was suddenly older and taller than Tim, that the intense heat and jittery vibrations that always characterized an Impulse hug were gone; he smelled like Bart and he had Bart’s eyes, and Tim clung and wept.
Bruce had the sense to leave them well enough alone, and Alfred was a god among men and anticipated Tim wanting food for two people in his room. Bart was all awe-struck by the manor and let Tim gently rib him about it. They curled up together on Tim’s still-unfamiliar bed. Bart filled Tim in on his four years in the speed force and the whys and hows of his power malfunction. Tim filled Bart in on the melodrama and new directions inside the superhero community over the last year. In between they traded “Do you remember when . . ?” stories about Kon, Young Justice, Steph, Carol, his Dad and Max, and even early Titans. Tim laughed for the first time in ages.
Late into the night, when Bruce was probably out wrapping up the second half of his patrol and they’d polished off the food, Bart asked if Tim remembered that rainy night in Gotham.
Tim remembered.
It didn’t matter that his shoulders were broader and his hands bigger; he smelled like Bart and had Bart’s eyes, and when Tim kissed him Bart wrapped one hand around the back of his neck and hung on.
They spent the rest of the night exploring each other’s changed bodies, cataloging new scars and new muscles, learning responses to fingers and lips. They fumbled and whispered, never done this before, me either. Careful and thorough, they learned pleasure in each other.
Pink light brushed the bed when they lay still together. Lying on Bart’s chest, one hand trapped beneath the other’s body, Tim slept peacefully.
When Bart got his powers back, Tim celebrated with him. Time that Tim went to Bart, he thought, and Bruce reluctantly allowed him to go. Flash picked up Robin--literally--and ran them home, and a pair of vigilantes in red and yellow scoured the streets of Bart’s home city. Tim was sure they made an odd pair, to look at, and didn’t care. He knew how to do this, work with a speedster, work with this speedster. New look, new moves, same Bart, and Tim exulted in being at his side.
Robin was there when Flash’s rogues began to act up. He thought to track down Hartley, see if the Piper had heard anything, and ended up in the middle of a fight to the death. The abrupt about-face of the Flash rogues shocked him, took Flash and even Piper and Trickster by surprise. Robin rallied Piper and Trickster to their side. For one horrifying moment the rogues separated Flash from the others. Robin panicked in a predictably Robin way: he fought harder, meaner, faster. He bought Flash time to recover and strike back.
Tim had nightmares for weeks, even when he slept wrapped up in Bart’s arms. It could have gone so differently. Tim can see it, if he’d chosen to go to the Tower that weekend instead of visiting Bart. His phone rings and he gets the news, the last wonderful thing in his life is dead. Bart woke him up and held him, reminded him with hands and lips and weight that he survived, that they’re together.
The new Titans didn’t get it, protested the adult around the Tower. Tim let Rose defend Bart, though he enjoyed watching her whip the newbies into shape. He’d save his authority and righteous anger for later. Watching Rose and Bart was fun, too, and later Bart and Jaime. Kara never quite knew what to do with Flash, and his superspeed thoughts gave M’gann headaches. Sometimes, Tim was glad his boyfriend wasn’t on a team with him. Robin had enough to do without negotiating around the Flash every weekend.
The Flash, of course, was Bruce’s problem. For all their vaunted desire to come together naturally, the new League needed a speedster and there was only one in the offing.
Gotham, too, saw more than its fair share of the Flash, though to be fair Bart did his best not to interfere in Batman’s city. Sometimes it couldn’t be helped. Robin took to claiming those instances, hoping the confusion among the city’s criminals would be enough to deflect Bruce’s glare. He wouldn’t ask Bart to stop coming. Not when it turned out Steph was alive, and Bruce had suspected all along. Hence the lack of a memorial, a lack that had pressed Tim to try to fill it with his own beneath the Tower, amidst the now-decommissioned cloning machines. Tim took comfort in Bart, and once he slept, Bart stole down to the Cave. All his life, everyone had underestimated him, dismissed him as an impulsive brat, a sidekick, a third-rate superhero. Everyone but a select few: Iris, Max, Kon, Cassie, Rose, Carol, Tim.
Bart didn’t mind being underestimated by criminals, or even most superheroes. That was all right, they weren’t supposed to know. The world’s greatest detective, his lover’s adoptive father, on the other hand . . . some people should know better. Some people should know their children well enough to keep from betraying them.
He waited for Batman to return from his longer patrol. He waited for Bruce to shower and change. He waited for Alfred to be pointedly silent at Bruce, and then leave. And then he told Bruce in no uncertain terms that if he ever did anything like that to Tim again, he would find himself short a partner. Bart could and would keep Tim away from Bruce and the manor if he thought it would be best for Tim. He was sure he could get Roy to help, and probably Dick and Oracle as well. Maybe even Dinah; the League’s chairperson had a history of rehabbing younger partners with problematic mentors.
Batman listened to him. Bruce accepted his terms, and implied that he was proud of Bart, trusted him to take care of Tim, and that if he ever hurt Tim, Bart should expect the same response from Bruce.
Tim was awake when Bart returned to his bed. He opened his arms and Bart snuggled into him. Tim didn’t ask what he’d been doing. Bart kissed him, and Tim kissed back. They needed each other. Whatever the world threw at them, and they both knew it held missiles aplenty for superheroes, they would come out all right so long as they could come back to this.
Bart held Tim as they dropped into sleep.
I'm working on the next bits for the House of El series and the sequel to "Saving Grace", but I was craving Bart/Tim and this happened. It's a weird style for me, so any critical feedback would be useful.
Title: The Fifth Sacred Thing
Fandom: DC comics
Pairing/Characters: Tim/Bart
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Spans end of YJ through recent canon, veers AU shortly after OYL.
Disclaimer: Sadly, they belong to DC. It could be worse--they could belong to Marvel.
Author's Note: Title from the book, The Fifth Sacred Thing, by Starhawk (yes, really, Starhawk. It’s awesome, go read it).
Word Count: 2644
Nobody had told Tim how lonely he would be.
It didn’t occur to him, either, to tell the truth. Before, he’d been a new Robin, learning and interacting and very busy all the time. He used to kick back with Oracle and Nightwing, run around the globe getting training, even hang around with Bruce and Alfred in the Cave. Then World Without Grownups happened, and Secret happened, and Tim was thrust into friendship with two of the most exasperating, wonderful people he’d ever met. Young Justice was born, and came to fruition when Cassie and Cissie joined. Anita rounded the team out nicely. They played baseball against aliens and messed around with the super-cycle and teased Robin about his anal-retentiveness--and then about his fake secret identity.
Then Donna and Lilith died, and everything was bad. Teams disbanded. Tim found himself patrolling Gotham for hours on the weekends--there was always something more to do, until one Saturday morning in that gray, pre-false dawn light, he realized everything was quiet. The usual round of stupid people, crimes looking for a place to happen, had filled his night, with less than usual number of career criminals. Kon was stuck in Smallville, of all places, going stir-crazy and threatening to brave the Bat just to get a little face-time with someone who didn’t say “y’all.” Bart wasn’t stuck, strictly, but he, Jay and Joan were still feeling their way around the relationship and Bart didn’t want to mess it up, especially not with Wally judging his every move. Cassie was still searching for a new school, and Cissie e-mailed like always with the usual updates on Elias. Anita had less time for e-mail, but sometimes they talked on the phone.
Tim . . . missed them.
He didn’t leap at the chance to join the Titans, though. The Titans were a commitment, a team with a history he wasn’t sure he and his friends would fit into. Unlike most of the Titans, they were all legacy heroes--Bart at least would one day be Flash, and if anything ever happened to Superman or Wonder Woman, there was no question of who would step into those roles. No Titans before them had ever stared down the “taking over for your mentor” gun barrel.
Yet he found himself in San Francisco, slowly working out new paradigms for old relationships. He and Kon fit back together best, slotting into best friend mode easily. He and Cassie . . . didn’t talk much, but that was at least as much Cassie’s fault as his own. She was so angry now, all the time, all Tim could do was be there for her, and be the best leader he could. Tim hadn’t been sure that would happen, but it did--he stepped in and Kon, Cassie and Bart followed. Maybe one day Cyborg or Kory could lead them, but today and forever they would be his, first. His team, his responsibility.
His failure, again. Tim despaired of ever being the kind of leader Nightwing was. He’d had to earn his leadership in Young Justice, and now that he had, he failed them. Failed Bart. It wasn’t the first time, to be sure, and surely wouldn’t be the last, but Tim hated it all the same. It was Bart. Bart was different. They’d all taken care of Bart, in part because the other boy was so naïve and in part because Tim cherished his exuberant innocence.
Then he read the library. Tim couldn’t say that Kid Flash’s amber eyes weren’t Impulse’s, because he was undeniably still Bart. But there was a coloring and depth that hadn’t belonged to Impulse, either a loss of innocence or a gain of knowledge, Tim couldn’t decide.
Tim did have to respect Bart’s decision, though. He led them, and he couldn’t if he didn’t know them. They talked, philosophized, trained, and sometimes dragged Kon away from Cassie long enough to watch zombie movies and throw popcorn at the screen. Sometimes Gar or Cyborg joined in. Tim came to enjoy talking with Bart, throwing around abstract ideas and playing the endless what-if game, able to throw around references to obscure things he’d read for fun or for Batman and know that Bart would get it.
No one else seemed to take Bart’s transformation seriously, though. Tim spent two separate nights nursing Bart through Wally-related depression. Kon thought the whole Kid Flash thing was weird, and Cassie just ruffled Bart’s hair and moved on. Kory, Gar, Cyborg and Raven didn’t know enough to say.
Bart started coming to Gotham. Randomly--and if anyone could do random it would be a speedster. He’d show up during Tim’s lunch hour to complain about his teachers, and how they penalized him for being right. Sometimes on patrol, too, though he never took on criminals himself. Mostly he tied them up once Robin finished with them, and hung out on the rooftops for awhile. Not long enough to annoy Batman, just enough time to touch base and exchange between-weekend gossip.
One of those occasions was a rainy night in Gotham. Thunder muttered threats in the distance, and the radar claimed sheets and heavy lightning would start up nearer to midnight, but for now it was still light enough not to keep everyone indoors. Robin had already had two close calls with wet roofs, and Oracle was riding close comm. on everyone, keeping watch in case something happened. Batgirl, of course, had little trouble with the water, and her full-face cowl kept her soaked hair from flopping into her eyes, as Tim’s was doing. Cass broke off patrol with him to catch up with Steph, and Tim spent a moment being envious of their costumes. Goosebumps were raised along his elbows where skin showed, and rain poured down his forehead in rivulets.
A splash of water accompanied Bart’s arrival. Robin dodged out of the way of a wall of water upset from a puddle. Kid Flash laughed and said he’d have to check the weather next time. They headed for the roofs. Robin took a break, munching on a soggy energy bar, while Kid Flash sat on the edge of a building and dangled his feet over, kicking them in the air.
No one was around to see the scary Robin smiling and teasing Kid Flash (except Big Sister, of course). Robin was off-again with Steph. Bart still missed Carol. Dana made awesome veggie casserole, Joan knew how to feed a speedster. Bart liked Audre Lorde’s more poetic Sister/Outsider, Tim preferred Patricia Hill Collin’s academic Black Feminist Thought. Wally was still an asshole. Dick was being all avoid-y and having issues. Kon and Cassie were the most cliché thing ever. Cissie had already started to look at colleges. They had another round of the “Yucatan peninsula crater was too small to kill the dinosaurs/no it wasn’t” debate. Robin dropped in on a very wet drug deal and interrogated the dealer while Kid Flash tied up the buyers.
Tim paused on the next rooftop to say good-bye; Bart had already been around longer than Batman usually tolerated Robin’s teammates in his city. Bart hugged him, and Tim didn’t think anything of it because this was Bart. This time, though, he felt Bart’s hands bunch into fists in his cape and Bart’s head seemed pressed awfully hard against Tim’s shoulder. Tim tightened his grip on Bart and pressed his face against Bart’s hair.
He wanted to say something reassuring, about getting through this and always being there for each other. That’s how he felt, with Bart pressed against him and shaking just a little. Tim wanted to take on the world, change it so it wouldn’t hurt Bart anymore, wanted to keep him safe.
Promises you can’t keep shouldn’t be made, and Tim wouldn’t know how to say it, anyway.
So he held him, and let Bart hold him back, and took a second to brush a strand of hair away from Bart’s face when they parted. Bart grabbed Tim’s hand before he could draw it back and squeezed, once. Tim squeezed back.
Kid Flash left in a shower of water.
Then Steph and his Dad and Kon died, and everything was bad. The JLA disbanded. Dick nearly followed the rest of Tim’s family. Jason came back evil and killing people. Bart vanished in to the speed force. Tim got through everything by rote, doing what he’d been taught and crying himself to sleep, and when that didn’t work, he drugged himself. He had to get enough sleep, and if that was the only way, so be it. Oracle was far away, Bruce and Dick there but distant, dealing with their own problems, Cass was--Tim lost track. Tim designed a new uniform and ran away when he could get away with it and tried to pretend he wasn’t well on his way to becoming a mad scientist, what with the cloning machine in the basement.
When Bart finally came back, Tim was a wreck.
He must have talked to Cassie first, because when Bart showed up on the manor’s doorstep, cab pulling away because Bart, of all speedsters, couldn’t use his powers, the first thing he did was hug Tim. It didn’t matter that he was suddenly older and taller than Tim, that the intense heat and jittery vibrations that always characterized an Impulse hug were gone; he smelled like Bart and he had Bart’s eyes, and Tim clung and wept.
Bruce had the sense to leave them well enough alone, and Alfred was a god among men and anticipated Tim wanting food for two people in his room. Bart was all awe-struck by the manor and let Tim gently rib him about it. They curled up together on Tim’s still-unfamiliar bed. Bart filled Tim in on his four years in the speed force and the whys and hows of his power malfunction. Tim filled Bart in on the melodrama and new directions inside the superhero community over the last year. In between they traded “Do you remember when . . ?” stories about Kon, Young Justice, Steph, Carol, his Dad and Max, and even early Titans. Tim laughed for the first time in ages.
Late into the night, when Bruce was probably out wrapping up the second half of his patrol and they’d polished off the food, Bart asked if Tim remembered that rainy night in Gotham.
Tim remembered.
It didn’t matter that his shoulders were broader and his hands bigger; he smelled like Bart and had Bart’s eyes, and when Tim kissed him Bart wrapped one hand around the back of his neck and hung on.
They spent the rest of the night exploring each other’s changed bodies, cataloging new scars and new muscles, learning responses to fingers and lips. They fumbled and whispered, never done this before, me either. Careful and thorough, they learned pleasure in each other.
Pink light brushed the bed when they lay still together. Lying on Bart’s chest, one hand trapped beneath the other’s body, Tim slept peacefully.
When Bart got his powers back, Tim celebrated with him. Time that Tim went to Bart, he thought, and Bruce reluctantly allowed him to go. Flash picked up Robin--literally--and ran them home, and a pair of vigilantes in red and yellow scoured the streets of Bart’s home city. Tim was sure they made an odd pair, to look at, and didn’t care. He knew how to do this, work with a speedster, work with this speedster. New look, new moves, same Bart, and Tim exulted in being at his side.
Robin was there when Flash’s rogues began to act up. He thought to track down Hartley, see if the Piper had heard anything, and ended up in the middle of a fight to the death. The abrupt about-face of the Flash rogues shocked him, took Flash and even Piper and Trickster by surprise. Robin rallied Piper and Trickster to their side. For one horrifying moment the rogues separated Flash from the others. Robin panicked in a predictably Robin way: he fought harder, meaner, faster. He bought Flash time to recover and strike back.
Tim had nightmares for weeks, even when he slept wrapped up in Bart’s arms. It could have gone so differently. Tim can see it, if he’d chosen to go to the Tower that weekend instead of visiting Bart. His phone rings and he gets the news, the last wonderful thing in his life is dead. Bart woke him up and held him, reminded him with hands and lips and weight that he survived, that they’re together.
The new Titans didn’t get it, protested the adult around the Tower. Tim let Rose defend Bart, though he enjoyed watching her whip the newbies into shape. He’d save his authority and righteous anger for later. Watching Rose and Bart was fun, too, and later Bart and Jaime. Kara never quite knew what to do with Flash, and his superspeed thoughts gave M’gann headaches. Sometimes, Tim was glad his boyfriend wasn’t on a team with him. Robin had enough to do without negotiating around the Flash every weekend.
The Flash, of course, was Bruce’s problem. For all their vaunted desire to come together naturally, the new League needed a speedster and there was only one in the offing.
Gotham, too, saw more than its fair share of the Flash, though to be fair Bart did his best not to interfere in Batman’s city. Sometimes it couldn’t be helped. Robin took to claiming those instances, hoping the confusion among the city’s criminals would be enough to deflect Bruce’s glare. He wouldn’t ask Bart to stop coming. Not when it turned out Steph was alive, and Bruce had suspected all along. Hence the lack of a memorial, a lack that had pressed Tim to try to fill it with his own beneath the Tower, amidst the now-decommissioned cloning machines. Tim took comfort in Bart, and once he slept, Bart stole down to the Cave. All his life, everyone had underestimated him, dismissed him as an impulsive brat, a sidekick, a third-rate superhero. Everyone but a select few: Iris, Max, Kon, Cassie, Rose, Carol, Tim.
Bart didn’t mind being underestimated by criminals, or even most superheroes. That was all right, they weren’t supposed to know. The world’s greatest detective, his lover’s adoptive father, on the other hand . . . some people should know better. Some people should know their children well enough to keep from betraying them.
He waited for Batman to return from his longer patrol. He waited for Bruce to shower and change. He waited for Alfred to be pointedly silent at Bruce, and then leave. And then he told Bruce in no uncertain terms that if he ever did anything like that to Tim again, he would find himself short a partner. Bart could and would keep Tim away from Bruce and the manor if he thought it would be best for Tim. He was sure he could get Roy to help, and probably Dick and Oracle as well. Maybe even Dinah; the League’s chairperson had a history of rehabbing younger partners with problematic mentors.
Batman listened to him. Bruce accepted his terms, and implied that he was proud of Bart, trusted him to take care of Tim, and that if he ever hurt Tim, Bart should expect the same response from Bruce.
Tim was awake when Bart returned to his bed. He opened his arms and Bart snuggled into him. Tim didn’t ask what he’d been doing. Bart kissed him, and Tim kissed back. They needed each other. Whatever the world threw at them, and they both knew it held missiles aplenty for superheroes, they would come out all right so long as they could come back to this.
Bart held Tim as they dropped into sleep.