Fic: Kind of Like Falling In Love 19/20; Roy/Tim; PG
Title: Kind of Like Falling in Love
Author: Aravis Tarkheena
Pairing: Roy/Tim
Rating: PG
Warnings: Angst, slash
Disclaimer: Not mine, everyone's legal
Word Count: 1,100 ish
Author's Notes: This is part 19 in a 20 chapter fic based on prompts from the dcu_freeforall. Each chapter is at least 1000 words and the prompts go in order. Prompt # 19: lenses.
Table of Contents
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Bruce leaned back in his large chair in front of the bank of monitors for the Bat-computer listening to Dick and Tim at the far end of the ‘Cave. The two of them were practicing on the bars that were set up next to the sparring mats. Laughter and the smell of grip chalk were in the air and for the first time in a long time, Bruce felt content.
He reached over and grabbed the small cup of hot tea that Alfred had set out for him before going up to bed.
He had paused as he set the tray down on the table next to Bruce, lifting his head and smiling as he listened to Dick and Tim teasing each other unmercifully from the far corner.
“The birds are chirping quiet loudly this evening. One would think it was spring,” Alfred said with amusement and affection heavy in his voice.
Bruce hid a smile in his tea cup. “Good night, Alfred.”
“Good night, Master Bruce. Tell the young masters I expect to see them tomorrow promptly at six thirty,” he instructed primly.
Bruce nodded in acknowledgement and Alfred left, a tray tucked under one arm and back straight as a ruler. The boys knew better than to miss the monthly Sunday supper now that the menu was prepared. Bruce’s wrath they would risk, but never Alfred’s.
Alfred’s Sunday suppers had become few and far between over the past few years. Dick had become increasingly busy in New York and with each missed dinner, Tim seemed to grow less and less interested in convincing Dick to make them.
The distance that had grown between them had hit Bruce all at once one day on patrol. Dick had come into Gotham to help Bruce and Tim with an organized crime case. They were laying in wait to ambush two of the ring leaders when Bruce realized how quiet everything was. He had glanced in surprised at his two boys to find them quiet and solemn. They were sitting at least two feet apart and the moonlight glinted off the lenses of their masks as they looked pointedly away from each other.
When they were together in the past, Bruce usually had to work to keep them quiet. Even when they weren’t saying a word they communicated loudly with each other. Looks, gestures and subtle movements turned into long conversations. But all that was gone.
The distance between them seemed endless. Dick used to use every excuse he could to touch and tease his brother. When Bruce had thought about it, he realized that he could not remember the last time he had seen the boys touch, let alone hug.
It was as if they were strangers.
Bruce had chalked it up to Tim’s recent shift in demeanor. He had lost so much, it made sense that he wouldn’t be in the mood to laugh an play, no matter who with. However, when this cool attitude between them persisted, Bruce started to get worried.
Then Dick started visiting even less often than usual.
Bruce finally worked up the nerve to speak with him, but Dick said that nothing was wrong between them. It was just that they were both busy. When he asked Tim, he had just shrugged Bruce off and left the room.
Bruce was left feeling worried and helpless.
He knew Tim was unhappy. He also knew it would be a long time before Tim started to recover from all the death and loss that he had recently experienced. It was almost seven years before Tim had been even remotely at peace with losing his mother. Bruce knew it and Tim knew it. They knew precisely how much misery he had to look forward to before things settled down for him emotionally.
Tim had not seemed willing to attempt any emotional connection that was not strictly necessary.
Until he had started spending more time with Roy.
While Bruce had become concerned with the increasing amount of time that Tim spent with the older man, he could not deny the shift in Tim’s demeanor. He seemed to have more energy and even started to smile more often. The change in him was almost palpable.
The air of misery that had hung about him since he found his father’s dead body seemed to dissipate more and more each day. The excitement Tim was feeling eventually morphed into a form of sedate happiness.
Tim spoke more, he ate more, he teased more and he was even starting to smile again.
Bruce had started to relax until he realized that Tim’s relationship with Roy was not strictly platonic. He had wracked his brain for days, trying to figure out how to confront Tim about it. Roy was far too old for him, not to mention his child.
Bruce had just about made up his mind to speak with Tim when Tim had come home one night and confessed. Tim was clearly nervous about speaking with him but under that nervousness was a pervading contentedness that Bruce had not seen in his youngest child in quite a long time.
Bruce still had his misgivings, but Tim was happy and right now and Bruce was not going to risk losing that again.
Tim and Dick sauntered back over to Bruce snickering. Dick was covered in grip chalk and Tim’s shirt was missing and his hair was mussed, but they were both smiling happily. Dick settled against the bank of the computers, facing Bruce and Tim took his usual spot, perched on the arm of Bruce’s chair.
They both snitched his cookies.
“What’s so funny?” he asked swatting at Dick’s hand in an attempt to save at least a few of the cookies for himself. While Dick distracted him, Tim grabbed two of them and handed one to his brother with a smile.
“Not a thing, Boss,” Tim said around a mouthful of cookie and smiled at his brother.
“We’re just making contingency plans in case our foes come up with a sneaky and ingenious way to incapacitate you,” Dick told him and Tim started laughing again.
“Do I want to know?” he asked dryly and Dick shook his head, trying hard not to smile.
“Probably not, just keep in mind that we do not want Lian Harper to become a criminal mastermind,” Dick warned.
“Noted,” Bruce said and frowned as Dick grabbed the last cookie from the tray.
They stole his cookies, made fun of him behind his back, drove him crazy and would probably send him to an early grave, but he loved them both. Bruce’s boys were happy and, for now, that was all that mattered.
Chapter Twenty
Author: Aravis Tarkheena
Pairing: Roy/Tim
Rating: PG
Warnings: Angst, slash
Disclaimer: Not mine, everyone's legal
Word Count: 1,100 ish
Author's Notes: This is part 19 in a 20 chapter fic based on prompts from the dcu_freeforall. Each chapter is at least 1000 words and the prompts go in order. Prompt # 19: lenses.
Table of Contents
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Bruce leaned back in his large chair in front of the bank of monitors for the Bat-computer listening to Dick and Tim at the far end of the ‘Cave. The two of them were practicing on the bars that were set up next to the sparring mats. Laughter and the smell of grip chalk were in the air and for the first time in a long time, Bruce felt content.
He reached over and grabbed the small cup of hot tea that Alfred had set out for him before going up to bed.
He had paused as he set the tray down on the table next to Bruce, lifting his head and smiling as he listened to Dick and Tim teasing each other unmercifully from the far corner.
“The birds are chirping quiet loudly this evening. One would think it was spring,” Alfred said with amusement and affection heavy in his voice.
Bruce hid a smile in his tea cup. “Good night, Alfred.”
“Good night, Master Bruce. Tell the young masters I expect to see them tomorrow promptly at six thirty,” he instructed primly.
Bruce nodded in acknowledgement and Alfred left, a tray tucked under one arm and back straight as a ruler. The boys knew better than to miss the monthly Sunday supper now that the menu was prepared. Bruce’s wrath they would risk, but never Alfred’s.
Alfred’s Sunday suppers had become few and far between over the past few years. Dick had become increasingly busy in New York and with each missed dinner, Tim seemed to grow less and less interested in convincing Dick to make them.
The distance that had grown between them had hit Bruce all at once one day on patrol. Dick had come into Gotham to help Bruce and Tim with an organized crime case. They were laying in wait to ambush two of the ring leaders when Bruce realized how quiet everything was. He had glanced in surprised at his two boys to find them quiet and solemn. They were sitting at least two feet apart and the moonlight glinted off the lenses of their masks as they looked pointedly away from each other.
When they were together in the past, Bruce usually had to work to keep them quiet. Even when they weren’t saying a word they communicated loudly with each other. Looks, gestures and subtle movements turned into long conversations. But all that was gone.
The distance between them seemed endless. Dick used to use every excuse he could to touch and tease his brother. When Bruce had thought about it, he realized that he could not remember the last time he had seen the boys touch, let alone hug.
It was as if they were strangers.
Bruce had chalked it up to Tim’s recent shift in demeanor. He had lost so much, it made sense that he wouldn’t be in the mood to laugh an play, no matter who with. However, when this cool attitude between them persisted, Bruce started to get worried.
Then Dick started visiting even less often than usual.
Bruce finally worked up the nerve to speak with him, but Dick said that nothing was wrong between them. It was just that they were both busy. When he asked Tim, he had just shrugged Bruce off and left the room.
Bruce was left feeling worried and helpless.
He knew Tim was unhappy. He also knew it would be a long time before Tim started to recover from all the death and loss that he had recently experienced. It was almost seven years before Tim had been even remotely at peace with losing his mother. Bruce knew it and Tim knew it. They knew precisely how much misery he had to look forward to before things settled down for him emotionally.
Tim had not seemed willing to attempt any emotional connection that was not strictly necessary.
Until he had started spending more time with Roy.
While Bruce had become concerned with the increasing amount of time that Tim spent with the older man, he could not deny the shift in Tim’s demeanor. He seemed to have more energy and even started to smile more often. The change in him was almost palpable.
The air of misery that had hung about him since he found his father’s dead body seemed to dissipate more and more each day. The excitement Tim was feeling eventually morphed into a form of sedate happiness.
Tim spoke more, he ate more, he teased more and he was even starting to smile again.
Bruce had started to relax until he realized that Tim’s relationship with Roy was not strictly platonic. He had wracked his brain for days, trying to figure out how to confront Tim about it. Roy was far too old for him, not to mention his child.
Bruce had just about made up his mind to speak with Tim when Tim had come home one night and confessed. Tim was clearly nervous about speaking with him but under that nervousness was a pervading contentedness that Bruce had not seen in his youngest child in quite a long time.
Bruce still had his misgivings, but Tim was happy and right now and Bruce was not going to risk losing that again.
Tim and Dick sauntered back over to Bruce snickering. Dick was covered in grip chalk and Tim’s shirt was missing and his hair was mussed, but they were both smiling happily. Dick settled against the bank of the computers, facing Bruce and Tim took his usual spot, perched on the arm of Bruce’s chair.
They both snitched his cookies.
“What’s so funny?” he asked swatting at Dick’s hand in an attempt to save at least a few of the cookies for himself. While Dick distracted him, Tim grabbed two of them and handed one to his brother with a smile.
“Not a thing, Boss,” Tim said around a mouthful of cookie and smiled at his brother.
“We’re just making contingency plans in case our foes come up with a sneaky and ingenious way to incapacitate you,” Dick told him and Tim started laughing again.
“Do I want to know?” he asked dryly and Dick shook his head, trying hard not to smile.
“Probably not, just keep in mind that we do not want Lian Harper to become a criminal mastermind,” Dick warned.
“Noted,” Bruce said and frowned as Dick grabbed the last cookie from the tray.
They stole his cookies, made fun of him behind his back, drove him crazy and would probably send him to an early grave, but he loved them both. Bruce’s boys were happy and, for now, that was all that mattered.
Chapter Twenty