The Care and Feeding of Tim Drakes
Bruce is standing there, watching the boy work on the uneven bars. His form needs a little polish, but it's not bad. He's already sparred with little Tim and is mentally working out a training regimen that would suit the boy's physical aptitudes. He nods to himself. There is work to be done, and a better costume to be made, but his other universe self has done a good job with the boy. "Alright. Dismount and cool down. Alfred will have breakfast ready in fifteen minutes.
He lands and glances over his shoulder at Bruce with a grin. "Great. I'm starving."
Bruce's lips twitch in a smile. He motions the boy off and turns to the computer, intent on starting the write up of Timmy's training regimen.
"You're doing a pretty good job with him," Tim says from where he's been watching Bruce work with his younger self. It's true. He's willing to bet that for at least a few minutes, the kid had completely forgotten about how displaced he felt and how frustrated he was with the new world he'd found himself in.
Bruce glances over at Tim. "How's that?" He blinks, not really sure what they are talking about.
He gives Bruce a wry smile. "I'm pretty much an expert in the mannerisms of Tim Drakes. He looked pretty happy."
Bruce nods. "It. He's part of our family. Now."
"I guess he is." He jerks his chin in the direction the younger Tim had disappeared in. "When does he go out?"
"We'll revisit that idea in two weeks," he says firmly. "His fighting skills need some work. And I have to get a new uniform for him."
"Considering he looks like my double in miniature?" Tim says, grinning.
"I...was meaning that his isn't suited for this Gotham's night life. Not enough armour."
He nods. "Things must be different where he's from."
"It would seem so. And. I would prefer that he live long enough for me to find way to send him back."
"I think he would prefer that, too."
He looks back at the screen. "Do you want to be part of his training regimen?"
"Sure." He steps a little closer so that he can look over Bruce's shoulder. "What do you need?"
"Someone closer to his size to help get his confidence up." He shows Tim some kata diagrams.
Tim laughs a little. "Heh. Closer. He's tiny."
Bruce's lips twitch and he raises an eyebrow at the boy. "I remember someone else being that small. Once."
"Must have been Dick," he says, keeping his face straight.
Bruce hmms, a light dancing behind his eyes. "Of course. Shall I compare measurements from the surveillance footage?"
Tim grimaces. "Please don't. I'm not sure my ego could stand it."
There comes a sound that is suspiciously close to a chuckle. Then the man stands. "Breakfast," he declares. "Alfred will have my hide if we are late."
"And the shrimp is 'starving,'" Tim says, smirking. "It would be a shame to make him wait."
Bruce nods. "Indeed." With that, he leads the way up the stairs.
He lands and glances over his shoulder at Bruce with a grin. "Great. I'm starving."
Bruce's lips twitch in a smile. He motions the boy off and turns to the computer, intent on starting the write up of Timmy's training regimen.
"You're doing a pretty good job with him," Tim says from where he's been watching Bruce work with his younger self. It's true. He's willing to bet that for at least a few minutes, the kid had completely forgotten about how displaced he felt and how frustrated he was with the new world he'd found himself in.
Bruce glances over at Tim. "How's that?" He blinks, not really sure what they are talking about.
He gives Bruce a wry smile. "I'm pretty much an expert in the mannerisms of Tim Drakes. He looked pretty happy."
Bruce nods. "It. He's part of our family. Now."
"I guess he is." He jerks his chin in the direction the younger Tim had disappeared in. "When does he go out?"
"We'll revisit that idea in two weeks," he says firmly. "His fighting skills need some work. And I have to get a new uniform for him."
"Considering he looks like my double in miniature?" Tim says, grinning.
"I...was meaning that his isn't suited for this Gotham's night life. Not enough armour."
He nods. "Things must be different where he's from."
"It would seem so. And. I would prefer that he live long enough for me to find way to send him back."
"I think he would prefer that, too."
He looks back at the screen. "Do you want to be part of his training regimen?"
"Sure." He steps a little closer so that he can look over Bruce's shoulder. "What do you need?"
"Someone closer to his size to help get his confidence up." He shows Tim some kata diagrams.
Tim laughs a little. "Heh. Closer. He's tiny."
Bruce's lips twitch and he raises an eyebrow at the boy. "I remember someone else being that small. Once."
"Must have been Dick," he says, keeping his face straight.
Bruce hmms, a light dancing behind his eyes. "Of course. Shall I compare measurements from the surveillance footage?"
Tim grimaces. "Please don't. I'm not sure my ego could stand it."
There comes a sound that is suspiciously close to a chuckle. Then the man stands. "Breakfast," he declares. "Alfred will have my hide if we are late."
"And the shrimp is 'starving,'" Tim says, smirking. "It would be a shame to make him wait."
Bruce nods. "Indeed." With that, he leads the way up the stairs.