#redxbird

five times + word 

The first time Bruce thinks Timothy Drake is dead - he doesn’t actually think it. Because it’s too close - it’s too much - it’s too harsh. It’s only been a couple months since - since Jason - and Bruce doesn’t know what he did to get to Tim’s side, except that there are unconscious bodies littering the ground behind him, and the knuckles of his gloves are bloody. When he gets to Tim, he feels relief when he sees the younger’s chest moving, and then undeniable regret. Bruce picks him up, gently, taking him back to the manor. He doesn’t let Tim do anything but surveillance for the next month, and Tim gets it. Alfred finds Bruce later on that night, and doesn’t comment on the fact that Bruce’s hands refuse to stop shaking. 

The second time, Tim was simply patrolling - on his own, because Bruce had to attend some kind of function, and Alfred’s voice crackled through his earpiece. Said something along the lines of Tim having trouble, and Bruce excuses himself, ignoring the chill that had replaced the blood in his veins. Alfred tells Bruce that Tim has stopped responding, and Bruce can’t think - doesn’t quite remember what followed, what he did - until he finds Tim at the docks, drenched and coughing up water. Bruce is at his side in a heartbeat, and Tim just smiles a little at the concern in Bruce’s face, comments on the fact that their communicators needed to be waterproof. Bruce chokes back a laugh or a sob, and pulls the soaking boy to his chest, tells Tim that the earpieces are waterproof.

The third time, Tim is shouting his name, shaking Bruce, voice alarmed and not quite registering. He’d hit his head pretty damn hard, and remembered the last thought he’d had was to make sure that Tim was safe. Tim is babbling, and Bruce wonders, absently, when the last time the kid had slept. And then, Tim was hugging him, telling him he’d thought he’d lost Bruce - telling him that help was on the way and that he had a concussion, before Tim pulled away, and recounted the last details of the mission. And Bruce thought, even in the panic and concern still lacing Tim’s voice, informing Bruce, that he couldn’t lose this one. That he wouldn’t. 

The fourth time, Tim is bloody, unconscious, barely breathing, when Bruce takes him into his arms. He thinks that Tim is fired. Retired. Something. Anything but this, because whether or not Tim thought he could do this - Bruce could not. He could not continue to do this. He refused to. Even when Tim’s injuries are tended to, and the kid is squinting at him from the bed, face puffy and voice hoarse, Bruce is still shaking. He tells Tim that he’s fired, and Tim responds with a laugh. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, man. You’re stuck with me. You need me.” The worst part is that Tim is right. 

Closed starter for @redxbird

A leather jacket was tossed across her shoulders as she leaned over the glass counter of her store. A soft hum could be heard from her if one's ears were good enough sounding of a tune old and ancient but soothing in its own way. Head tilted just a touch her hands worked at an old piece of doll house furniture, a chair, that had been made out of metal and seemed beyond repair so grimy and dark it was. None the less slowly bright shining metal was revealed under the woman's hands as the slow hum continued even while the new customer walked into her store with the bell letting out a light chime just above him.

five times + word

The first time is when he wears the suit. He’s stubborn and brilliant, and Bruce doesn’t see Robin - he sees Timothy Drake, and sees the sons that have left - that have died. The first time Bruce considers Tim as a son to him, as family to him, is when he demands the younger boy to take the suit off. Tim refuses, tells Bruce that he needs a Robin - so that Bruce can slow down. The first time is when Tim wears the suit, and refuses to take it off. And Bruce doesn’t know if it’s parenting, that he allows him to.The second time is when Tim falls asleep at the monitors. The boy doesn’t sleep much, and Bruce is gentle so as not to wake him up, gathering him up in his arms. He takes the younger to the bed he barely slept in, tucked him in and brushed the hair from his face. When Tim rolls onto his side, mumbling something appreciative, Bruce wonders if its parenting that makes him feel this warm, makes the manor feel like home.

The third time is when they’re arguing. They rarely argue, and often Tim follows along with what Bruce has to say - when it comes to Tim’s understanding of himself, this sense of perpetual inadequacy, Bruce has to work to get the younger to see - to see how wrong he is. To prove to Tim, strategically, how much of an excellent strategist he was. Tim has expectations for himself that Bruce can’t reconcile, because Tim simply being who he is is all the expectation Bruce has. Is that…what it means, to be a father? 

The fourth time is during patrol. Gotham is quiet, and they’re standing on a rooftop. Gotham is very rarely quiet, and the city has far too much light pollution to see the stars clearly - but they do. They stand there, side by side, and Bruce thinks parenting is ensuring that Tim knows that sometimes - sometimes - the night sky can just be the night sky. Tim fills the silence with discussion of constellations, and Bruce pretends he doesn’t already know. 

Harper grinned, her hands wrapping around his forearm, standing close to him. “Feeling a little bold tonight, Timmy?”