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A frigid breeze gusted over the rooftops of the Bowery, blowing in from the harbor and chilling Tim to the bone through his Red Robin suit. He really needed to switch to his winter gear soon. Thinking about his gear reminded him he needed to replace his grappling line soon. He also should update the Batcomputer and he’d been meaning to re-organize their digital filing system for months now and the Batmobile could probably use a tune-up…
Unfortunately, as much as he would like to throw himself into various home – or, more accurately, cave – improvement projects, he still had so much to sort out with Drake Industries, not to mention he was still technically the CEO of Wayne Enterprises while Bruce got back on his feet from his trip through the time stream.
Tim sighed wearily, gently knocking his head back against the gargoyle he was leaning against, to-do lists and time management calculations whipping around his brain as relentlessly as the frigid Gotham wind rushed through the streets. He just had so much to do, both as Timothy Drake and Red Robin and there never seemed to be enough of him to go around. Sometimes he wished he could clone himself so he could be in two places at once. Tim stopped to consider for a moment. He’d had worse ideas. Upon closer inspection though, he dismissed the thought. The logistics alone would be a nightmare. Aside from that, the thought of multiple Tim Drakes existing at once was a bit terrifying. Some days, Tim feared that even one Tim Drake was more than the world was equipped to handle.
These days, the fears and worries and to-do lists seemed to circle ceaselessly through his mind. No matter how hard he worked, how many hands he shook and meetings he led and presentations he gave or sat through, there were always ten more projects waiting to take the place of whatever he’d just finished
For whatever reason, Tim had expected things would get easier after Bruce returned. Somehow though, the opposite seemed to happen. The responsibilities Tim had taken on in Bruce’s absence had simply remained in his hands while everyone dropped everything to fuss over Bruce and monitor his recovery. Obviously, Tim didn’t begrudge Bruce taking his time to recover. He was honestly grateful the man was actually listening to the medical professionals for once in his life.
That didn’t mean that the rest of his family needed to drop everything though. At the very least, Dick could be more helpful. Even if he didn’t help with WE, he could help out more at the Cave, take over some of the general maintenance and upkeep Tim usually took care of. The two of them were still not entirely back on good terms though, and communication between them had been limited since Bruce’s return. Though he tried to accept the situation gracefully, Tim couldn’t help but feel taken advantage of – once again used and abandoned when he had served his purpose, like so many times before.
After everything, Tim was still picking up the slack, still trying to hold the pieces of their lives together while the rest of them sat back and watched him struggle, or worse, didn’t see it at all. Tim tried not to be resentful. It wouldn’t change anything and ultimately would only hurt his own relationships down the road. Even so, he was getting really tired of always having to be the responsible one, even though he wasn’t even 18 yet while most of the rest of his family were legal adults at this point.
Of course Tim was capable of handling the work, was good at it even, but the stress was killing him. And while he may not have the best idea of normal family dynamics, he was fairly certain it should not be solely on him to fix and manage everything and everyone in their dumpster fire of a family.
And underneath it all was a fear, a creeping terror that it was all a lie. That the last four months never happened and Bruce was still lost. That any moment he would wake up – in a hotel in Egypt or in Nanda Parbat with the League, or any number of other harsh, unfamiliar environments he’d found himself in over the course of his journey – and realize it had all been a cruel dream. He didn’t think he would be able to get back up and start again if that happened. He would simply cease to function: just sit, staring at the horizon, searching for a nonexistent future as he waited to wither away into nothingness.
When those thoughts got too loud, Tim couldn’t stand to sit in the silent stillness of his apartment. It was too similar to that waiting to die, that state of constant, tortured apathy that Tim had survived in through the course of his search. He needed to get away from the quiet of his empty apartment and the noise in his head. So, he did what he had done since he still wore velcro-straps on his shoes; he took to the rooftops, running and jumping and watching and listening until his own thoughts became a distant murmur in the back of his mind. At least, usually that was enough to get him out of his head.
Tonight though, exhausted as he was after running and flipping halfway across Gotham and engaging in several minor scuffles with thugs and muggers on the way, the thoughts simply refused to shut up.
At this point, Tim felt like he was on the cusp of something. Probably a mental breakdown. He didn’t know what to do, but he knew he couldn’t go on like this. Sooner or later, something was going to give and he had a growing feeling in his chest that this time, it would be him. His mind just wouldn’t stop, he felt like a squirrel was darting around his brain, grabbing things and running in circles and causing general mayhem while Tim tried to write a medical dissertation.
Tim’s spiraling was interrupted by the thudding of heavy boots on the concrete behind him. He had figured it was only a matter of time before he showed up. Tim was essentially hanging out on his front lawn, after all. And maybe that was what he had been hoping for, deep down.
“Hood.” Tim greeted casually.
“Replacement.”
Tim’s lips twitched at the old jab. After everything he had been through, Tim could honestly say he wasn’t scared of Jason anymore. He wasn’t even really angry about all that had happened between them, but he also hadn’t gotten as far as he had, survived everything he did, just to be taken out by a zombie with anger management issues, no matter how reformed he seemed these days. With this caution in mind, Tim made sure to keep his bo staff in reach and his guard up. Still, Tim couldn’t deny that it was nice to see his old Robin flying again, more or less with the bats once more. What was a little murder on his days off? Everyone needed a side hustle, Tim reasoned.
“What brings you to my neck of the woods?” Hearing Jason’s robotic voice modulator, Tim’s mind conjured the image of Red Hood as some kind of futuristic biker gang boss. He could be a cyborg who had lost the use of his natural voice in a shoot-out with a rival gang and now he could only talk with a robotic voice generator. He thought it could be a cool story, taking in Jason’s leather jacket, red helmet, and hulking stature as he loomed over Tim. I really oughta start writing this stuff down, Tim thought absentmindedly. I bet if I–
“Um, hello? Why are you sitting on the edge of a rooftop in the roughest part of town, Red? This is way outside your usual patrol route. Are you even on the roster tonight? It’s Monday. You don’t patrol on Mondays.” Somehow, Tim could almost see Jason’s eyes narrow under the helmet. Tim said nothing. Yes, he technically wasn’t scheduled for patrol tonight, but Batman could hardly bench him anymore. No matter how badly Bruce might like to pretend otherwise at times, Tim wasn’t his Robin anymore. That thought stung a bit, though not as much as it once would have.
Four months after rescuing Bruce from the time stream, now Tim just felt tired when he thought about the events leading up to his departure from Gotham to start his search. The results of that situation, however, were the reason Tim was out here on his night off, so maybe he wasn’t as over it as he liked to think.
“Ok, seriously, what gives?” Jason’s bulky frame slid into view to Tim’s right as he joined him on the rooftop’s edge, looking out over Gotham’s smog-filled downtown streets. At some point during Tim’s pondering, Jason had removed his helmet and was now looking at Tim with an irritated expression.
Despite Jason’s apparent annoyance, Tim smiled inwardly. There was definitely a note of concern underneath the gruffness. It was nice to know Jason cared, at least enough to check on him.
“Everything is fine, Hood. I just needed some air.” In his peripheral vision, Tim really did see Jason’s eyes narrow this time.
“I call bullshit. The only thing that ropes you into doing anything but research or videogames on your days off is sleep. I don’t see a gaming console,” Jason said, twisting his head back and forth to look around the roof exaggeratedly. “And you’re not parked at your computer waist deep in research and used coffee mugs, so unless you’ve developed a sleep-walking habit recently, something’s up. So, what gives?” Jason pulled a slightly squished looking granola bar out of his jacket pocket, tearing it open and stuffing half in his mouth as he waited for Tim’s answer.
Well, if he had broken out the snacks, he probably wasn’t planning on leaving any time soon, Tim observed. Might as well come clean, since Jason seemed suddenly and inexplicably invested in how Tim spent his free time. And honestly what the fuck, why did Jason know his habits so well, it wasn’t as if they hung out regularly. Tim sighed, recognizing that in a family of detectives, of course everyone had each others’ schedules memorized. They were trained to observe, to analyze and categorize everything and everyone. That being said…
“I dunno Jay, I’m just tired.” Jason hummed encouragingly, munching on his granola bar. “It’s been months, and I still feel like I’m on the edge of my seat, waiting for the next clue to appear so I can go running across the world to look for a way to save Bruce. Sometimes I feel like I’m going to wake up and realize this has all been a dream, and I’m really just chained up in Ra’s’ basement, tripping on some crazy magic drug, and I never actually saved Bruce.” Jason wasn’t chewing anymore.
“Aside from that, I’m ridiculously overworked. I’m the acting CEO of two multi-billion dollar companies and I spend my free time fighting crime in the most crime-ridden city in the world. It’s too much, I can’t shut my brain off or catch my breath and I feel like I’m going to shake apart at any moment because I’m so goddamn stressed and I’m too tired to figure out how to fix it.” Tim drew a deep breath.
“Well shit,” Jason garbled through a mouthful of crumbs. Tim let out a laugh at the crime lord’s terrible manners.
“What would agent A say, Hood?” He teased. Jason produced a water bottle out of nowhere, washing down the rest of his snack as Tim settled back against the gargoyle. Jason had asked, Tim had said his piece, and now Jason could either continue to sit here or leave. They sat in silence for a bit, listening to sirens blaring in the distance. Finally, Jason stirred beside Tim, looking sideways at the younger vigilante thoughtfully.
“You really think this could all be a hallucination?” He asked quietly. Tim shrugged, too tired to care about what he said. If Jason wanted to know, Tim would tell him. It wouldn’t change anything.
“Sometimes. These days, it mostly just feels like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, like the league or some other group of fuckers I’ve pissed off over the last couple of years is going to show up and ruin everything again and it’ll be all my fault.” Tim sighed, wishing he was asleep. “When the thoughts get too loud, I get all twitchy and start going full Bat-man level paranoia.” Jason snorted, apparently amused by the image.
“That I can believe.”
“Yeah, laugh it up.” Tim griped.
“So basically,” Jason said, serious again. “You came out here because you were feeling anxious?” Tim tilted his head, considering.
“I mean, when you put it like that, yeah, I guess that’s it.” Tim felt silly. What were his worries next to Jason’s, who had been fucking murdered by a psycho clown before he’d even reached sixteen?
“I mean, that’s fair,” Jason said, surprising Tim once again. Man, tonight was really turning out to be a weird one. And Tim was a bat, so the bar for weirdness was HIGH.
“It is?” Tim asked hesitantly.
“Sure.” Jason shrugged, turning his gaze back to the Gotham skyline. “Intrusive thoughts come for us all, I guess.” Tim pondered that. He supposed that in their line of work, that did make sense. He still felt a bit childish though, after all, they were just thoughts.
“And honestly, after everything you’ve been through, everything you’ve survived, it makes sense your mind could get stuck in survival mode. And to be fair, our track record for old enemies bent on revenge is pretty bad, so it’s not even really that paranoid of a fear.”
“Right?” Tim agreed. “Still, it’s not like I’m just making preparations for reasonable threats.” Tim dipped his head, watching his booted feet dangle over the alleyway below. “I keep spiraling and getting stuck in my head. It’s exhausting, and makes me feel trapped, like I can’t breathe in my apartment. So, when it gets bad I’ll come out here for a bit, try to get out of my head enough to make my thoughts shut up.” Jason nodded thoughtfully.
“Makes sense. And you’re right, you are ridiculously overworked. You shouldn’t have to deal with all of that, there are plenty of people at WE who could pick up the slack, Bruce included. He’s well enough at this point to do some goddamn paperwork.” Tim nodded thoughtfully. The brothers fell quiet again, both engrossed in their own thoughts.
“Right,” Jason said suddenly, standing up and dusting crumbs off his lap. “Let’s get out of here.” Tim blinked, startled by the sudden shift.
“And go where?” Tim asked.
“Out.” A mischievous smile spread across Jason’s face.
“Riiiight,” Tim replied suspiciously. Obviously, Jason was up to something, but hell, Tim had come out to distract himself, and he was reasonably certain that whatever trouble Jason was planning would fit the bill.
“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with any crime boss business, would it? Because if that was the case, I would feel obliged to tell you that it is my sworn duty as a vigilante to carry out justice.” Tim growled out the word in a fairly decent Batman impression, he thought. Jason burst out laughing as Tim made his way to his feet.
“Not bad, kid.” Tim grinned, pleased with himself. “Keep practicing and maybe you can prank Nightwing sometime. I wonder how long it would take for him to realize.”
“Seriously though, where are we going?” Tim asked. Jason fired his grappler, latching onto the neighboring rooftop.
“Somewhere we can blow off some steam.” Tim followed, intrigued.
…
“Karaoke? Really?” Tim asked doubtfully. They had stopped by Tim’s apartment so he could change into civvies and now were standing outside a store-front with neon signs blinking in the windows advertising karaoke and pool. “Good Time Jane’s,” the storefront’s sign read. It looked kind of seedy, definitely a bit of a dive, but this was Gotham after all and Tim had certainly spent evenings in much worse company and locations so he wasn’t about to complain.
“Hey, respect the noraebang.” Jason said defensively. Tim snorted, but still hesitated.
“Jason, I don’t know, I really don’t have time for this I have to –”
“Work, yes, you said,” Jason interrupted. “You also said you were overworked and anxious and stuck, and this is the way to fix that.” Jason gestured grandly at the run down building’s flickering lights. Tim shook his head stubbornly, but he couldn’t help the swell of curiosity that ran through him. Could it really be that simple? Did he simply need to…take a break? Could he simply take a break, just like that? Nothing was stopping him. Tim glanced up from the building’s face to look at Jason.
“Come on kid, live a little! I promise it’ll make you feel better. Besides, what do you got to lose?” Tim couldn't think of any good reason to refuse, so he decided he might as well let it happen.
“Alright you win, lead on.” Tim followed Jason through the doors, taking in the pool tables spread out across the floor and the bar in the corner of the room.
“We can grab a table later if you want,” Jason said absent-mindedly as he approached the bar. “Can we get a room for the evening?” Jason asked the bar-tender. Tim almost choked on his own tongue.
“Jesus Jason, phrasing!” He hissed. Jason grinned unapologetically.
“Get your mind out of the gutter, kid.” He turned back to the man behind the bar. “We’ll start with an hour and go from there.” Jason slid a small wad of cash across the counter and the bar-tender silently handed them a key.
“Room three,” me grumbled, pointing absentmindedly to a hallway to their right.
“Thanks,” Jason said, taking the key and grabbing Tim’s arm to steer him toward their room. “Alright kid, get ready, I’m about to beat your tone-deaf ass with Abba.”
“I’m not tone-deaf,” Tim said, offended. Janet Drake would never have allowed such a thing to stand. Even if Tim had been born with no ear for music, she would have figured out some way to train the ability into him. She always did.
“Alright Sinatra, prove it.” Tim knew Jason was goading him, trying to trigger Tim’s competitive streak. He didn’t mind though. He’d never done karaoke before, maybe it would be fun.
…
“Karaoke is not fun,” Tim groaned after Jason’s third performance of ‘Dancing Queen.’
“Oh come on you killjoy, you’ve only sung two songs.” Jason shoved the mic into Tim’s hand as he headed for the door.
“Be right back, I’m gonna pay for another hour and grab us some drinks. The non-alcoholic kind,” Jason stressed.
“Come on, seriously? You’re as bad as Dick,” Tim grumbled, slumping down into the padded bench seat.
“I resent that.” Jason called over his shoulder as he made his way down the hall. Tim sighed. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate what Jason was trying to do – honestly, it was kind of touching that Jason had gone to this much trouble to try and cheer Tim up – but this place was way outside Tim’s comfort zone. All his life, he had been Timothy Drake, heir to Drake industries, or Robin, Batman’s partner in crime-fighting. Very rarely had he been out in public as just Tim, just himself. He didn’t know how to act in this setting. Tim waited quietly for Jason to come back, absently passing the microphone from hand to hand. Maybe this was good, he thought. Maybe it was time for him to figure out who he was outside the suits – both vigilante and formal.
Jason returned soon after, balancing two drinks and a plate of nachos on his arm.
“Whoa, you couldn’t have grabbed a tray?” Tim asked as he stood to help Jason deposit his haul onto the low table in the center of the room.
“No need,” Jason said breezily. “I used to wait tables at this awesome little Italian place on Fourth Avenue. They were always crazy busy, so I had to learn to balance multiple dishes at a time; I even learned to balance plates on my head – this is nothing.” Jason handed Tim a drink – a bubbly light red concoction with a couple cherries mixed in. Tim looked at it, frowned, and looked back up at Jason’s grinning face.
“What is this?” Tim asked.
“What, you’ve never had a Shirley Temple before?” When Tim just kept staring at the colorful drink, Jason realized Tim hadn’t.
“How?!” Jason shrieked in dismay. “Jesus Christ, you had a sucky childhood Timmy. And that’s coming from me and I grew up on the streets.” Jason took a breath, gathering himself before nodding at the drink in Tim’s hand. “Just try it, I promise you’ll like it,” he said for the second time tonight. Tim considered the beverage again, shrugged, and took a tentative sip. He straightened, suddenly eyeing the drink with intense concentration. Then he gulped the entire glass down in one go, cherry stems and all.
“Holy – what kind of trash-gremlin are you?!” Jason screeched. Tim just smacked his lips thoughtfully, seeming to savor the drink.
“Can I have another?” Tim asked, holding his glass out as if Jason could fill it up by force of will. Jason stared at Tim, then the glass, then back at Tim, speechless for possibly the first time in either of his lives. And then he was cackling, head thrown back and shoulders shaking in the face of Tim Drake’s outstretched empty glass.
“Glad you like it I guess, you fuckin’ psychopath” Jason said once he could breathe properly again. “I told you you would. Here, you can have mine.” Jason pushed his own drink across the table, still grinning so wide it looked painful. “I can get another in a bit, but drink this one like a human please?”
“Fine,” Tim rolled his eyes, sipping at the drink contentedly.
“Sheesh, you need to get out more often, kid,” Jason said as he flipped through the song index. Tim hummed noncommittally, utterly absorbed by his new favorite beverage.
“Alright, what next? We’ve got Cher, Beyonce, BTS, Ariana Grande, Florence and the Machine – ooohhh they have My Chemical Romance Timmy, just the thing for an angsty teen vigilante,” Jason said cheerfully.
“Jason NO,” Tim groaned.
“Jason, YES.” The man in question queued up Black Parade and sat down, shoving Tim in the direction of the screen.
“Go on now, don’t be shy. Here, I’ll take your drink.” Tim handed Jason his drink reluctantly with a mournful expression.
“Fine. But I’m making you sing show tunes next,” Tim threatened as he stomped his way to the front of the room.
“You promise?” Jason didn’t look suitably chastised and it occurred to Tim that Jason might actually like musical theater. How the hell this guy pulled off the whole scary drug lord crime boss gig, Tim would never understand. Deciding to ignore Jason’s questionable taste, Tim took his place at the front of the room.
“Ok, if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right,” Tim said while they waited for the ads to finish. Jason sat up, promising to do all the background chorus sections. Tim nodded approvingly, and as the bright notes of the intro rang out into the little room, Tim made up his mind to have fun tonight – to let go and allow himself to be happy, if only for just one evening. He had earned that much, at least.
True to his word, Jason shouted out every background lyric while Tim took the melody. By the end, they were both hoarse and laughing.
“Ok, next is Teenagers,” Jason decided, scrambling to play the next song.
“Are you crazy?” Tim coughed out a laugh. “No way I’ll be able to get through that, I can barely talk as it is after the last one.” Jason seemed to consider this.
“Hmmm I guess you have a point. We’ll save that one for next time. Welp, I guess more Abba it is!” Tim’s smile dropped as he realized his mistake.
“Wait no, I changed my mind, Teenagers is fine actually, there’s no need–”
“No no, you’re right,” Jason barreled over his protests. “Too much strain on the voice, it wouldn’t be healthy for baby bird voices. Abba on the other hand –”
“Oooookay, I think it’s time for some more drinks,” Tim said, speed-walking out of the room as Jason cracked up again.
“Two Shirley Temples, please.” Tim told the bartender. “Actually, make that three.” As he watched the man putting together their drinks, Tim considered the drink’s name. Shirley Temple. Hadn’t she been a child actress back in the day? He had a vague recollection of an old black and white movie he once saw as a kid, but couldn’t remember what it was about. Why was there a drink named after her? And why this drink? Jason would probably know. He seemed to know all kinds of random information about movies, music, history, literature, and really anything that interested him, Tim guessed.
There was a reason Tim had admired Jason Todd himself almost as much as he idolized Robin. He was just so full of life and enthusiasm, always eager to learn and live and grow. Even though Jason had already experienced hardships and injustice by the time he came to live with Bruce, he never let his own circumstances hold him back. He never lost his fascination and awe of the world around him, reading book after book, asking endless questions, and absorbing and memorizing everything he could. As a kid, Jason was Tim’s hero. Now, he was Tim’s brother.
Tim smiled at the thought, recognizing just how lucky he was to have this now. The fact that Jason was alive at all was a miracle. That he and Tim were here now, as brothers, seemed almost entirely as miraculous. Collecting their drinks, Tim made his way back to the room, deciding he could vibe with Abba if Jason was there. Jason and a couple Shirley Temples.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
By the end of the night, Tim had lost count of the number of Shirley Temples he went through. Eventually, the bar tender – Glen, Tim had learned after drink number four – cut him off.
“It’s for your own good kid, you look like you’re about to vibrate out of your skin. Have some water or something, shit.” Jason nearly fell on the floor laughing at Tim’s crestfallen expression.
“Come on baby bird, let's play some pool.”
As the evening went on, Tim felt a lightness settle into his chest – a feeling almost like peace, or maybe happiness. It was the most fun Tim had had in months. He discovered a new favorite beverage, sang karaoke for the first time (the karaoke night at Titans Tower didn’t count, no matter what Cassie tried to tell them), and he got to spend time with Jason.
At the end of the night, the brothers stumbled out of the bar, high on sugar and nachos and laughter. Jason threw an arm around Tim’s shoulders as they wove in lazy zig-zags across the sidewalk.
“What’d I tell ya, Timmy? Best thing to get your mind off everything. Also, just fucking fun.” Jason was slightly less sugar-drunk than Tim at the moment, as Tim weighed about a third of Jason’s body weight and had consumed at least double the sugar that Jason had. Even so, his steps wove back and forth a bit more than usual.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I admit you were right, screw off,” Tim grumbled, but his voice was unmistakably amused.
“Nice, mission accomplished!” Tim screwed up his face, peering up at Jason’s face.
“Mission? What mission?”
“Operation: Get Timmy to chill out and touch grass while proving that Jason Todd is a genius and is always right.” Jason grinned, pleased with himself. Tim scoffed, shaking his head. Jason was an idiot. A smart, violent, annoying, caring idiot, and a pretty awesome brother to boot, all things considered.
“Alright, right off the bat, pun intended, that is the worst mission name I have ever heard.” Jason glares at him.
“Whose plan was this, shorty? Was it yours? No, it was not. My genius idea, my choice of mission name. That’s how it works.” They bickered back and forth until they arrived at Tim’s apartment.
Tim could hardly believe the evening had actually happened; it was so unlike him. He didn’t think he had ever indulged in such – such silliness in his life. Through the grenadine-induced haze, Tim decided maybe it was ok to let yourself be silly sometimes.