Another one I found. Ah, my soulmate @satire-please was sick a while ago and asked for a young Timmy all sick and the Bats find him in Drake Manor. Itās Nightwing in from the Haven with a little Jason!Robin :D
When the only people out in Gotham after nightfall are the vigilantes, you know itās time to go. N and Robin had hit mid-town before their legs were completely numb to all sensation and the clench of his stomach, the almost oops with his zip line was countered by Nightwingās uncanny sixth sense.
The second time his predecessor caught him by the back of his cape before an epic fail on the roof of the Wallstone (even through the gloves he canāt feel his handsĀ well enough to hold the zip line), they agree wholeheartedly itās time to call it a night. Ā Like heās reading their minds (or he just knows his boys), B already sent the big car down to an alleyway for their pick-up. The heater is blasting when they duck inside, limbs tingling back to life before N revs the engine and they take off into the night.
The next afternoon, Alfred Pennyworth hangs-up the Manor telephone and returns to the kitchen, his back a little stiffer than normal.
Looking up from the incredibly stupid āArctic Academyā assignments for snow days, Jayās eyebrow cocks up while Dick manages to stir from huddled around his bowl of cereal. Reading the paper and drinking his coffee, B lets the butler go through his own particular set of motions before deciding to intervene. He still taps his cane a little on his walking cast, just so Alfred knows.
The offended muttering while the butler moves around the kitchen, putting sundries away, removing his apron, going for his coat, hat, and scarf.
āIt seems,ā the butler finally speaks loud enough to be to them, āyoung Timothy has been left to his own devices and has not answered any phone calls from his parents.ā Sliding on his driving gloves, the calm, cool, and collected is just the tiniest bit askew, āthey have requested I go check on the boy, just to be certain he hasnāt run against any difficulties.ā
āTimmy from down the road?ā Jasonās brows furrow, āheās only a fucking kid. You aināt telling me they left him alone, right?ā
The silence answers that.
Bās already ninja folded the newspaper in perfect lines, standing to retrieve his own coat from the mudroom, hobbling quickly for someone with a broken leg.Ā āItās literally six outside, Alfred. Iāll go. Do me a favor and check the scans running in the Cave on the last file Question sent. Iād like to know what heās gotten into now.ā
āI shall, Sir,ā Alfred hums back, watching Master Bruce turn into concerned parent while he bundles up against the frigid cold.
B only has to say one word.
Dick is downing his milk with more wake-up than five minutes ago. Heās due back in the Haven by tomorrow night to start his next round of Officer Grayson Solves Them All, so that gives him plenty of time to check on Timmy before heading back.
Jason scribbles a few more notes, rising from his chair to bend over for the last few lines of the book review.
The heat works double-time, all three frozen to the bone without ever leaving the garage.
Even more disturbing is the complete serenity of Drake Manor when they start to fight through the snow to get up the drive.
(Damn. Should have brought the big car.)
The scene is unmarked, pristine, just a little tell on how long it had been since someone had been inā¦or out.
Leaving the car running warm, Bruce is out and taking the foot-deep drifts like he takes on criminals as Batmanā without a pause.
Dick and Jason are hot on his heels, eyes taking in the surroundings, the contingencies, the environment they might be following him intoā
The porch is finally somewhat free of snowās terrible grip where B knocks with a gloved hand, ready to shout in case the young boy was upstairs.
The front door, however, pops softly, heavily, open under his knuckles.
All three of them stop, step back, and prep.
The motion is subtle, a flick of two fingers with the hand not holding on to his cane, and Jason is vaulting off the porch like heās not a bit freezinā his nuts off, rounding the house to look for any clues there might be aā
One window is cracked open upstairs, and heās already wrapped a hand around the drain pipe to scurry up.
Dick is going around the other side, still seeing no other tracks, no broken anything. Nothing through the windows except a pristine sitting room, an elaborate formal dining room, and the kitchen as he rounds to the back of the house.
The light makes his stop immediately to peer in, already trying to jimmie the window open. On the floor, wrapped up in a blanket, is a tiny bundle of a boy, every muscle drooping, face buried in his upraised arms.
From this vantage, Dick canāt tell if heās even breathing.
āGet inside!ā He yells out, knocking on the glass to see if the kid moves.
And the window is finally shoved up once he can get his fingers into the right places to trip the locks, and Dick Grayson is through the window fast, just in time for B to come through the kitchen door, and Jay to drop down from a vent overhead.
The converge around the bundled boy, just a messy mop of dark hair peeping through the canary yellow fuzzy blanket.
Itās not until B automatically reaches out that the head flops to the side and dull blue eyes blink up at them hazily.
āMisterā¦Mister Wayne?ā Nasilly and hoarse, Tim Drake is pale in the face with only dark rose to his cheeks, tip of his runny nose, and forehead. āWhat areā¦what are you doing here?ā
āHow long have you been by yourself?!ā Dick demands gently, pulling a glove off to put a hand on the kidās forehead, his pounding heart finally easing down slightly now that Tim has actually moved.
āMrs. Mac couldnāt get through the weather,ā the young boy yawns, letting his head drop forward a little into Dickās cool palm. āSā okay. Iāve got plenty of stuff to eat andāā
A hard cough rattles his chest a little, and he ducks his head out from under Dickās hand to bury his face in his blanket.
Jay goes around to close the window Dick left open, noting the thermostat is set at 61 degrees, and nudges Bās shoulder just slightly.
The exchanged look is the very same nope, not okay while Dick just gives in to his instinct and eases the coughing boy into his lap to cuddle.
Tim was too sick, too tired, too everything to really notice the cool outer material of Dickās coat was against his cheek, and the hand moving in soothing circles on his back felt nice, so nice.
āWhatās the plan, Boss?ā
B is already pulling out his phone, making a quick call. Jay gives a brusk nod and affectionately ruffles Timās messy hair. The big, watery eyes look back up at him blearily around Dickās coat, and Tim smiles gently.
āHi Jay. Did you come to play video games with me?ā
At the hopeful note in the kidās tone, Jay completely pretends his heart isnāt breaking open wide. Instead, he crouches down (just like heās Robin) and tries to make himself smirk so he donāt let Timmy know how ungodly pissed off he is.
āCanāt stay, Baby Bird, but howz ābout ya come back ta the Manor with me nā B nā Dickie, yeah? Weāll play some games there nā get some good eats, you feel me?ā
That seem to perk Tim up a little, enough to get the boy to at least sit up in Dickās lap on his own, ācan I? I mean, I can? I mean, is that okay?ā
His eyes go to B, who is moving smoothly instead of limping heavily when the other line finally picks up. Tim buries himself a little deeper in Dickās coat when Mister Wayne crosses the room to talk in a very low, deep tone.
āItās totally fine, Timmers,ā Jay tries to grin, laugh it off a little so the kid doesnāt think anything is wrong (even though it is, all of this fuckery is), āAlfred was gonna come getcha ta hang out since itās a snow day.ā
āMisterā¦Mister Pennyworth is soā¦nice,ā Tim replies with another puppy yawn that completely entrances Dick since itās just too adorable for words.
āYes, he is, Timmy. And he very, very much would like it if you would come to stay with us for a few days, okay? Jay will go upstairs and pack you some clothes, weāll wrap a few more blankets around you, and weāll go have some nice soup and watch some awesome movies between video game rounds.ā
āI would love that, thank-you, Dick.ā He tries to be enthusiastic, tries to be happy, but heās so achy and sore and tired. His throat is scratchy and his belly rumbling with hunger under the blanket. āButā¦but could I get up and get my soup out of the microwave? Iām not sure how long itās been in there, and I should put it in the fridge for next time.ā
And, well, no Timmy, youāre probably not going to escape that hold.
Jay grins wider when he sees Dick reflexively tighten down for the long haul.
āDonāt gotta worry ābout it, Timmers. Just let Dickie getcha ready ta go outside. āS cold as a motherfucking bitch, lemme tell ya, and we donāt wanna letcha get any sicker, you feel me?ā
āLittle Wing! Language!ā
āAw, hell with it, Dickie. Heās a smartie, didnāt cha know?ā
āItāsā¦Iām not, I mean, Iām okay, really. I can take care of myself.ā The boy looks a slightly panicky, his small hands peeping through his blanket burrito to tighten down on the edges. āYou donāt have to do anything at all! I promise. I wonāt be any troubleāā
āYou are never trouble,ā B interrupts darkly, finally finishing his conversation, and has returned to the trio without a sound. āAnd weāre glad to have you stay with us.ā
Those eyes get more moist, his nose nudges down into the blanket, his forehead turning into Dickās jacket.
āAfter youāre feeling better, Iām going to give you the phone number to the Manor to keep in your room at all times.ā B crouches down strangely with the cast, trading places with Jason, who is already moving out of the kitchen and strafing up the massive staircase to start packing their sick Baby Bird a bag.
āO-ā¦Okay,ā the boy finally looks up at Bās dark eyes.
āIf youāre ever here alone and you need someone for any reason, you need to call me. From now on, Tim, do you understand?ā
āThatās a good boy,ā and the ruffle to his hair is absurdly gentle, making Tim ease down on his death-grip and raise his head up enough to smile.
And later, once heās in the sitting room of the Manor with old X-Men cartoon reruns on the television, snuggled down in Dickās lap with fresh pjs, a belly full of Mister Alfredās soup, and already riding the train to sleep with fever-reducers and a thick blanket to keep him warm, his eyes go from Dickās easy smile and affectionate eyes, to the absent hand Jay has on his ankle while he works through more of the problems on his Artic Academy paperwork, to B working quietly on a tablet while he sips at his coffee and occasionally looks up to make sure his boy are all right, Tim thinks how nice it would beā¦
To be part of their family.
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