Work Text:
Tim had done many things with his new family, but he never thought he'd be sneaking into a bar with them.
Call him naive, but he never really thought older siblings would do that sort of thing. Running around dangerous streets beating up criminals with him? Sure. But sneaking into a bar…
Apparently, he stood corrected. He watched, still a bit dumbfounded, as Jason slid a card across the table. “Here we go. One fake ID, just as promised.” Tim reached for the card and picked it up. A small image of his face stared back at him, along with his name and birthday—a fake date five years older.
Jason had apparently taken offense to the fact that Tim had never been to a bar. When they made plans on infiltrating the Iceberg Lounge a few weeks ago, he’d joked about getting Tim a fake.
At least, Tim had thought it was a joke.
Barbara and Dick thought a night out at the bar would be a great team bonding activity. After all, Dick was going back to Blüdhaven in a few days, so their ‘team’ would only be a team for a little longer. And who knew how long Jason would stick around Gotham for.
So Tim had accepted… reluctantly. He could already tell what his opinion on alcohol would be like. But he could suck it up for one night for his Bat-siblings.
He sighed, studying the ID. No way in hell anyone would think he was twenty-one. Then again, it was Gotham. People didn’t really seem to care around here.
Dick came up behind him and slung an arm around his shoulder. “Who else is ready for Tim’s first ever night on the town?”
Tim pushed him away playfully. “You guys are so weird. But sure, I’m ready.”
Dick grinned. “Perfect.
Forty minutes later, Tim found himself and his pseudo-siblings nearing a bar a few blocks away from the Belfry. Some place called Midtown Diamond. Flashy.
Jason led the way, promises of cheap liquor and semi-clean floors looming above their heads. Apparently he had been here a few times. Dick had too, once or twice, but he wouldn’t tell the group when. That earned him some quizzical glaring from Barbara.
Now the group stood at the front entrance. Well, three of them did. As the successor to Bruce, Dick’s semi-celebrity status might have turned some heads, so he agreed to go in on his own later.
Jason opened the door and led them inside, and the booming bass of pop music and dozens of voices flooded Tim’s ears. The Midtown Diamond was anything but pristine; even here Tim could feel his shoes sticking to the linoleum. Ahead of them were some pool tables, with a few groups of young adults gathered around each. Against the left wall was the bartop, and in the back Tim spotted a decent-sized floor space for dancing. The whole place was crowded, twenty-something year-old’s waiting to party their stress away.
Jason showed his ID to the bouncer. Weirdly enough, it was a fake too, since Jason Todd was legally deceased. The bouncer passed his card back and let him through.
Then it was Tim’s turn, and god, he did not want to be here. He gave the bouncer his ID. His time with Batman had taught him to stay calm under stress, but also to analyze human emotion to an exact degree.
Still hands, downturned lips, tight jaw. The bouncer’s eyes readjusted, squinting at the small picture on the plastic. His eyebrow raised just a fraction of an inch, which noted confusion, disbelief, or possibly just—
“Here,” the bouncer handed his card back. “Enjoy your night.”
Tim blinked. He pocketed the ID, glancing at Barbara. She smirked at him as she passed her own card over.
“Nice one, kid,” Jason elbowed him lightly. “You didn’t start sweating or anything.”
“C’mon. We literally saved the world last week. You think a bouncer scares me?”
“A little,” Jason smirked. Tim reddened, because Jason was absolutely right.
“So what now?” Tim asked as Barbara met up with them.
“Now we get some drinks,” she said. “Let’s get you something that actually tastes good before Dick makes you take a shot with him.”
“Ugh.” Tim’s throat tightened at the thought.
Jason chuckled, leading Tim to the bartop. “I’m sure he won’t make you. It’s just been a while since he’s had anything to drink.”
They each ordered a drink. Bourbon on the rocks for Jason, a margarita for Barbara, and a rum and Coke for Tim. He figured—hoped—the soda would mean he’d enjoy it somewhat.
Once they had their drinks the group found an empty table and settled in. The high-top was cheap and stained from years of drink spills, and big cracks lined almost all the vinyl stool cushions. They had just sat down when a familiar figure approached them.
Barbara waved at Dick. “Any trouble getting in?”
Dick shrugged. “Not really. Stopped a robbery in the alleyway while I was waiting outside.”
“You liar,” Barbara swatted at him. Dick just laughed and went to order his own drink. Once he came back Jason held his drink in the air.
“Cheers,” he said, “To a night of no crime.”
Dick groaned. “C’mon, Jay. You just jinxed it.”
Tim laughed. He held back a retort about probability and jinxes, choosing instead to bring his own drink up to match Jason’s. “To no crime.”
Tim learned quickly that bars were not his kind of thing. Neither was alcohol.
His whole life, he’d valued his mind. The ability to think, to see between the lines, pick up on miniscule details. His brainpower made him stand out, it was the reason Batman himself took Tim in. The alcohol dulled that all. His thoughts started to blend together, his mind frustratingly unalert. And the dizziness… it wasn’t exactly something Tim longed for.
Not to mention TIm hadn’t been an extrovert a day in his life. Any ounce of comfort he may have had was squashed by the pounding music and the dozens of loud conversations at the bar.
It didn’t take long for Tim to find his way to the porch. Only a few people were out here; most seemed to prefer the energy indoors. That left more quiet time alone. Tim sighed, resting his arms against the cool metal railing. He cupped his drink in his hand—his third one of the night—but didn’t plan on having any more. He might as well throw this one away, but, well, it seemed a bit of a waste. Jason did buy it for him, after all.
He took a deep breath, listening to two college kids nearby drunkenly discuss a movie that just came out. An action movie, A-list cast of actors and a budget rivaling Wayne Enterprises’ monthly revenue. Strangely, the conversation grounded him. These were the people they'd gone through hell and back for. Regular young adults like him, laughing and discussing movies.
God, Tim missed movie theaters. He hadn't been to one in… what was it? Two years? He'd gotten so busy with Robin that everything else took the back seat. And the last time he'd hung out with someone outside of school, outside of the hero world, was…
Wow. Tim couldn't remember. That was not a happy thought.
It's not like it was his first time realizing this. Tim had wondered if there was more to it all. But saving people was a full-time commitment, and he was ready for that.
Sometimes he just wondered what he'd be doing if it wasn't for all this.
“Been looking for you,” a familiar voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Tim jumped, some of the drink sloshing onto his hand. He turned.
Jason!” he greeted awkwardly. He shook the sticky drink of his hand.
Jason chuckled sheepishly and approached Tim. He leaned against the metal railing, taking a swig from his own cup. “How's it going?”
Tim shrugged. “Great. It's just, uh… loud. And flashy. And… did I mention how loud it is in there?”
Jason chuckled. “Yeah. Quite the rager. Guess I forgot you haven't been to a place like this before. You get used to it eventually.”
Tim quirked an eyebrow at him. “You saying you go to these places often?”
Jason gave a gritty smile, the scars on his face wrinkling. “Don't get the wrong idea. Bars are a great place to learn new intel. The alcohol is just a bonus.” He shook his cup lightly for effect, ice inside shaking together.
Tim glanced down at his own drink. He hadn't had a single sip since he'd come out here. He wasn't planning on having any more tonight, or for a few more years.
Jason gave him a knowing look. “Wanna get out of here?”
Tim smiled, relief flooding every artery and vein in his body. “God, yes.”
“You know,” Jason suggested, “I could really go for some doughnuts right now.”
The Holesome Dough had a location two blocks from the bar. The group walked together down the sidewalk, talking and laughing and acting normal. The team hadn't gone a night without patrolling in weeks, it was strange for Tim to be out at night without his mask and bow staff.
He couldn't let his thoughts drift long though, as Dick walked up to his side and nudged him.
“Hey,” Dick said.
“Yeah?”
“Favorite doughnut? Like, if you could only eat one doughnut for the rest of your life, and you weren't allowed to even look at any other doughnut, which would you choose?”
Tim smiled. “From this place? The apple tart, no question.”
“That's not a doughnut!” Dick protested.
“Too bad.” Tim’s smile grew. “You asked me that specifically while going to The Holesome Dough, so apple tart is the answer. I don't care if it's not a doughnut.”
Dick rolled his eyes. “Fine. But I’d choose Boston cream.”
“Boo,” Barbara called as she hopped over a puddle. “That's boring.”
“Oh yeah?” Dick said. “What would you choose, then?”
She paused to think for a second, and then, “Maple bacon.”
Tim scoffed. “No way. Liar.”
“I would!” Barbara said. “It was always Dad’s favorite, so…” She shrugged. “Why not?”
“Well then,” Jason said. “I'll keep this in mind. Maybe next time you're craving something sweet, I could whip up some doughnuts.”
Dick grinned, patting Jason on the back. He swayed a bit, leaning gently on his brother as he laughed. His touchiness came as zero surprise to Tim. Of course alcohol made Dick Grayson clingy.
“Sounds great!” Dick said. “But you gotta make something for yourself too. Let me guess: The tough, angry Jason Todd likes doughnuts with raspberry filling!”
Jason’s eyes glinted. “Close. Try cherry. Powdered sugar on top”
Dick gasped. “Cherry! How adorable!” He leaned in, maybe to hug Jason or ruffle his hair or just to annoy him.
Jason shoved him away. “Get off of me,” he grunted, though his smile held.
“God, Dick. How much did you have to drink?” Barbara asked.
“Enough to make me hungry for doughnuts,” Dick replied as they reached the shop. The neon Open sign bathed his face in a pink glow as he approached the door, warping his face into a circus fun-mirror for just a moment.
Even outside, Tim could smell the fresh scents of sugar and icing. The thought of eating anything from this place made him practically jittery. Maybe just from the idea of sugar, but mostly because Tim hadn't gone to the Holesome Dough since before Bruce’s battle with Ra’s. Since Bruce… died.
It had only been a few weeks, but he missed the sense of normalcy that came with this place.
“I got you covered, Tim,” Dick said. He went up to the counter and ordered a Boston creme and an apple tart. The worker set their stuff on a plastic plate and handed it to him. After he paid, he led Tim to a booth by the window.
Tim sat, glancing across the shop as Barbara and Jason ordered. “Why are you guys being so nice to me today?”
Dick shrugged, glancing out the window. “Mm. We want to look out for you, y’know? It's been—I dunno—a lot, the past few weeks. And you're the youngest.” He leaned back, gaze deepening onto the streetlit sidewalk. “I mean, we never had a formal conversation about it, but we wanted to make sure you were okay. Hang out together like a normal family for once.”
Family. The word rolled off his tongue so naturally, like Dick didn't even have to think about it.
Tim's heart seemed to ache, that deep kind that tugged on his chest gently and made his nostrils think about burning. A good ache.
He flushed. “Oh. Well, thanks,” he mumbled.
Dick smiled, gaze back on Tim. The edges of his eyes crinkled together in that same way they always did. That same smile that shone through years ago, when Dick was a circus acrobat and Tim was just a boy in the audience with a camera.
How life had changed so much since then.
“Y'know, Bruce would be proud of you,” Dick said suddenly.
Tim felt himself flush even harder. He told himself that it was the alcohol. “C’mon—”
“No, no.” Dick held his palm up in a ‘stop’ motion. “I wanna say this. I'm—I’m drunk right now. Drunk people have heart-to-hearts.”
Tim held back an eye roll, but couldn't help but smile. He hadn't been able to get that close to Dick as Robin. By the time Tim came along, Nightwing had been well-established in Blüdhaven, and his strained relationship with Bruce meant he was rarely in Gotham. Sure, they'd talked a few times and gone on missions together, but Tim never really considered Dick as a brother.
But then Batman had died, and the new Knights of Gotham were forced to come together. Tim and Dick had become so close since then, bonding over unlikely things and challenging each other at video game rounds and even working together on the Wayne Foundation.
After a rough night on patrol, Dick always seemed to know what to say. It was such a relief coming back to the Belfry some days and just seeing his face.
That new bond extended to Jason. Red Hood had been a renegade. Until the past few weeks, Tim would see him only rarely, and then Jason would just disappear. But since Bruce died, Jason had become closer to Tim than even Dick.
Jason somehow knew exactly what was going on in Tim’s mind, even if neither of them could translate those thoughts into words. The two worked effortlessly together on new tech, solving problems in a fraction of the time it would take individually.
And Barbara… well, Batgirl and Oracle had always been the logic. The glue holding their team together. That didn't stop when Batman disappeared. In fact, her presence only became stronger. Tim had been there for Babs when her dad died, and now she was there for him when Bruce…
Huh. In a strange, backwards way, Bruce's death somehow brought their little family closer.
“I wish…” Tim started and then trailed off. “No, nevermind. It's stupid.”
“What?” Dick asked. “Come on, now you have to say it. Need I remind you that I paid for your food?”
“Ugh, fine.” Tim dropped his gaze. “I guess… I just wish he would be here to see us. All of us, I mean. Together”
Dick nodded, thoughtful. Before he could reply, though, Barbara and Jason appeared. Jason held a plate with a doughnut in each hand, while Barbara carried a small white bag with the shop’s logo.
“For Alfred,” Barbara explained. “And… maybe an extra for me. There's not a shop close to my apartment.”
“Hangover doughnut,” Dick nodded in approval, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nice.”
Barbara rolled her eyes, pushing him farther into the booth so she could sit down. “You're the only one who's gonna be hung over tomorrow.”
“What about Jason?” Dick protested. “He’s had way more than me!”
“Didn’t we establish months ago that Jason has a higher tolerance?” Tim jutted in. “His muscle mass percentage and his weight ratio—”
“Ugh!” Dick put his head on the table. “I get it. He’s got bigger biceps than me. Can we move on?”
The others laughed. Jason slid the maple doughnut across the table to Barbara. She stopped the plate with her elbow. “Yes,” she agreed. “Moving on from the big boys’ muscles. I see enough of your guys’ flexing in the Belfry.”
The group continued chatting. Tim scooped a piece off his tart with his fork and ate it. Warm, apple-y bliss melted into his mouth, clearing up any sense of the countless battles and exhausted muscles and too-loud music from the bar.
In the past few weeks Tim had forgotten about this feeling. The normalcy. The ability to just… be. In another life, maybe all his days were like this. He didn’t long for a change or anything; becoming Robin was still the best thing that ever happened to him, without a doubt. But it was nice to just sit back for a while, with his team—his family—and enjoy the evening.
It was the best night he’d had in a long time.