chastewing
in
xi_rpg
[COMPLETE/CLOSED]
WHO: Dick Grayson and Tim Drake.
WHERE: Entrance and out.
WHEN: The day after that log, at noon.
WHAT: Dick and Tim are going out to eat.
FORMAT: Paragraph.
WARNINGS: None.
( Dick has a motorcycle. Tim looks like a dork in a leather jacket. )
WHERE: Entrance and out.
WHEN: The day after that log, at noon.
WHAT: Dick and Tim are going out to eat.
FORMAT: Paragraph.
WARNINGS: None.
( Dick has a motorcycle. Tim looks like a dork in a leather jacket. )
Tim says hi and speak ups when he has to, somewhat surprised he finds any words at all after Dick has introduced him as his little brother. He is Nightwing's little brother. There's that saying -- you can't choose family -- and of course, Tim would have preferred to be chosen by Dick, but this is still a lot more than he would have expected a month ago.
He immediately feels guilty for thinking that because it's all only happening because his parents died. He would have developed his powers even if they had still been alive, he would have convinced them to go to the Institute, anyway...
It hurts to think about the what ifs and Dick asked a question that he has to answer without looking as sad as he feels.
"Zesti? Please." he tells the waiter directly. "Or just water if you don't have any."
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It's not to replace the family lost - those can never be replaced, Dick knows this all too well - but to make a new one which is something that can be done no matter what or when. He's learned long ago blood doesn't matter. Some family you can choose.
It takes a bit of effort not to show immediate concern at the sudden change of emotions Dick can feel in Tim. Sometimes he almost wishes he had telepathy so he could find out what made people change so abruptly like that but sensing someone's emotions felt like intrusion enough.
He finishes the order and dismisses the waiter with a cheerful nod before focusing on Tim, cheerfulness fading away into mild worry.
"Hey," he says softly once the waiter's gone, gently bumping knees under the table in a comforting gesture and to get Tim's attention. "Something bothering you?"
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There's also part of him thinking that not answering Dick when he expects Tim to is going to push him away and give out the impression Tim doesn't want to talk and spend time with him. It would be partly true, but only because he's been taught (he's taught himself?) that talking about himself too much wasn't appropriate and could also be a weakness.
That's not how he should think when he's with Dick.
He takes a slow, long breath in, picking how much he can talk about without risking to attract pity or annoyance, which are two things he really wants to avoid.
"I was thinking about the fact I'm glad you're fitting me into your life so far. It -- led to some thoughts about my parents." He feels he's too happy, that he's not allowed to be. His parents are dead, it happened a month ago. He should still be mourning.
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"Don't feel guilty about being happy. It's not what your parents would have wanted. There's no set time you have to keep on mourning, some people take longer to move on and some can move on faster and there's nothing wrong with either of that."
At this point Dick, being the physical person he is, has to reach out and take Tim's hand to give it a reassuring squeeze while he gives the boy a small considerate smile to show he understands. Really understands and that he's not alone.
"Your parents would want you to be happy, now you only need to let yourself be happy."
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That's what bothers him. It's not constant anymore, he thinks about family without thinking about them when it's about Bruce and Dick and even if Dick is right and that his parents would be happy he's found somewhere to fit in so fast, Tim feels he's betraying them, somehow. Because they can't be replaced.
He smiles sadly, "I'm sure I will stop feeling guilty for being happy, soon."
It's not something he can decide, at least not in his opinion. He knows both Dick and Bruce went through the same thing and they know how to help, his tragedy isn't any worse than theirs just because it's more recent. He shouldn't be so egoistical.
"How long did it take you to let yourself be happy?" His eyes widen just barely and he adds quickly, "If I'm not intruding."
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The question makes him pause and consider though not before he gives Tim a quick, "Oh no, it's fine. You can ask me anything you want." It's only fair to play open book as well and Dick doesn't have a problem with talking to people. Not most of the time anyway.
He's not quite sure how long it took to let himself be happy, a lot of the memories of the first few weeks with Bruce were rather hazy. He can remember that for a while he had pretended to be happy because once he saw through his own grief he had noticed Bruce's and helping Bruce had distracted him from his own loss.
"I'm not sure," he admits honestly. "I think it was up until my first Christmas with Bruce." Which some might consider weird because Christmas is when you miss lost family most but...he just remembers getting a sweater Alfred had made himself, the warmth and finally feeling like he belonged, that that was his life now and it was okay to miss his parents and feel happy at the same time.
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(He'll understand later that he doesn't have to, that he can just feel a lot of things at the same time and that it's perfectly fine. He's not there, yet.)
"I know you're there." He could say more, but he doesn't. It's enough, everything else would be hard for him and wouldn't lead anywhere.
"I -- effectively darkened the mood. A lot." And he doesn't have the ability to tell a joke or a story and make everything better. He tried to learn it for a long time, but it never worked.
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He gives Tim's hand a final squeeze in affirmation before drawing his hand back and making room on the table for the approaching waiter to put their orders down.
"It's okay," he assures Tim sincerely. "I'm just glad you're willing to talk to me." And he really is.
Talking about this will never be easy, especially not when it's still so fresh so Dick appreciates it.
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"When I was younger, I would have conversations with you in my mind." Before Dick left the Wayne manor and completely stopped going to functions. Tim's scenarios would always start at a function -- he would say something clever, Dick would talk to him and somehow it would go so incredibly well that by the end of the night, Dick had told him his secrets without Tim ever bringing it up.
Now that he thinks about it, Tim knows it was ridiculous. But he was young, he can forgive himself.
"To be honest, I'm really glad you're willing to listen."
That's when the waiter arrives and he moves anything that could be in the way, letting him put down his plate. the sandwich is hot without being too hot and Tim has a small surprised startle after the first bite. The brie tastes like brie. This never happens.
"This is really good."
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Perhaps that confession should make him feel awkward but Dick can remember a time when he would talk to whatever he could talk to. Mostly that would be the lost bats that had gotten into the mansion somehow or the armour in the hall he had named after a dear clown friend. At least Tim had been speaking to a real someone in his mind, Dick can still remember the raised eyebrows Alfred gave him whenever he was caught lamenting to something that couldn't even speak back. So he nods in understanding.
"Of course. What else would a big brother be good for?" He says with a playful wink to lighten the mood a bit.
He's momentarily distracted by the arrival of food and graciously thanks the waiter before starting on his 'usual'. His usual being pancakes and coffee because Dick holds the opinion you can be an adult and still love pancakes.
"Best place in town, I'm telling you."
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"Your usual on lunch time are pancakes?"
He has nothing against pancakes himself, although he doesn't like them if they have too much sugar in them, but it doesn't seem like a balanced middle-of-the-day meal.
"Do you also take some coffee when you wake up in the morning? Because most adults shouldn't ingest more than 300 milligrams of caffeine a day. Anything over that may cause longterm physical problems..."
Tim realises after he's done talking that Dick probably knows that already. Still -- it can't be bad to point it out. Maybe a little creepy but Dick seems to be immune to creepiness, which is probably why he doesn't mind spending time with Tim, really.
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Which isn't as much as he would like, most of these days he settles for healthier cafeteria food, but back when he was a cop and lived in the city? He's sure Alfred would be very unhappy should the butler ever find out. There had also been quite some stereotypical donuts that he hopes to keep a secret.
Tim's bemusement and that random spurting out of a coffee fact make Dick laugh. He does know what he's been doing hasn't been healthy but it's also unhealthy to go out at night to beat up criminals.
"In my line of work, coffee is a required necessity I'm afraid."
And he's sure Tim knows what he means by that.
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He doesn't have anything to add, or ask, but he does have food to eat. He's discovered, with time, that food was one of the best excuse to top talking, because everyone agrees that you can't talk with your mouth full and no one will ever tell you 'chew and swallow faster, I want you to keep talking'.
Some people probably would, actually, but Tim has never met them.
Either way, it means it's time to concentrate on his food and wait for Dick to control the conversation.
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He eats his pancakes in a companionable silence that lasts for about...oh, a minute. He's never been good at keeping his mouth shut regardless of who he is around. He's naturally chatty like that.
That's not about to change.
"So, how are you liking the Institute so far?" It's an easy subject, one that Dick can smoothly present.
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"It's -- fine. Everyone I talked to so far has been nice or helpful, at least, and I didn't have too much of a hard time choosing classes? I was expecting a lot and nothing's much is happening but that has its good sides."
He sips on his Zesti and smiles a little. "I met a few X-Men -- former X-Men. But not Professor Xavier or any of the most famous ones other than Emma Frost. I keep thinking bumping into Cyclops or Wolverine would be..." he trails off. "Hopefully I wouldn't look too much like an idiot, at least."
If he managed with Dick, he should manage with any X-Men, really.
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Still, peaceful like it is at the Institute right now is for the best. "That's good," he says to the classes bit and just nods at Tim's expectations. He'd like to keep things 'not much happening' instead of explosions and...bears on the lawn. The mention of his team distracts him from that train of thought soon enough though and he perks up.
"Logan's a bit gruff but don't let the attitude fool you, he's a good guy and Scott," he pauses with a fond smile. "Is a really good friend. I'm sure you'd like him. I'll have to introduce you."
The others would probably want to know about his addition to the family.
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