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Now, here’s the thing. Timothy Jackson Drake was smart. Genius level intellect, heir to Drake Industries, discovered Batman and Robins identities at the young age of nine. All of these were facts.
Tim, tonight , however? A complete fucking idiot.
It all started with an email.
Tim had been counting down the days until his parents would come home from Egypt. They had planned their trip so they could return to Gotham just in time for Tim’s sixteenth birthday.
Tim had cleared his schedule the previous week, even going so far as to call off patrol for the fortnight his parents would be in town, before departing for another trip to god knows where (Guyana, maybe? Tim recalls them mentioning going there).
All in all, Tim was fucking ecstatic. It had been nine months since he’d last seen his parents, and god it made him sound like a little kid, but he missed the stuffing out of them.
It was pretty safe to say that Tim was happy, really fucking happy, over the moon in joy.
Until last night, that is.
The night before his birthday.
Tim had checked his emails, like a fool, only to see that his father had sent him a short message stating that he and Janet had decided to extend their trip another eight days.
You can handle being the man of the house for a little while longer, right champ?
No mention of his birthday, no apologies.
It was fine.
Tim didn’t really expect anything anyways. A fucking call might have been nice though.
So, like any emotionally stunted kid, Tim decided to throw a party at Drake manor. What was the point of being a rich kid if you couldn’t take advantage of your unusually large property?
“Are you sure about this Tim? Weren’t you going to spend the weekend with your parents?”
Ives called Tim at 3pm, as promised. Tim had been off school sick this week, and Ives had been filling him in on the plethora of content he had missed. Tim couldn’t care less about school at this very moment. He would catch up, he always did.
“Change of plans. My parents aren’t coming home anymore.” Tim replied, attempting to keep the disappointment out of his voice.
“Oh.” Of course Ives noticed, he always did. “ Why don’t you and I hang out then? We can go skating like we used to”
Tim can’t help but feel guilty. He hasn’t touched his skateboard since he became Robin.
“It’s too late to cancel now. But you should come to the party!” Tim says, but he already knows his friend will decline.
“I don’t think so Tim, not really my kind of scene. Besides, I’m working tonight.”
Tim can’t recall how the rest of the conversation goes, he can only remember hanging up, the rhythmic click of the telephone as he places it back on the wall.
So, Ives was worried. Maybe he had every right to be. Tim was careful, cautious. But when he let go… let’s just say, Ives had been privy to a drunk Tim before, and to say it didn’t go well would be an understatement.
Which is why it came as no surprise when Ives was reluctant to help Tim spread the news about his party this morning. He still did it anyway, because Ives was good like that. And perhaps also because he knew that Tim was too stubborn to listen to reason.
Humming a familiar tune, Tim tips open the plastic cover containing red party cups, placing them down on two large tables he had moved into the front room of Drake manor. Guests would be arriving at any minute. Tim hadn’t bothered to set out much alcohol. He knew the kind of crowd he had invited. They would bring their own.
…
Five hours later sees Tim sprawled over a large couch, one shoe mysteriously missing, and his legs resting on the lap of a girl he vaguely recognises from his advanced chemistry class. She isn’t even looking at him, instead draining her cup, which is no doubt filled with more than one type of whiskey.
Tim does the same.
Voices are echoing around him, and he doesn’t even try to tune in to any of the conversations around him. That is, until a guy approaches Tim on the couch, holding up a plastic bag containing white powder.
Tim grins and rises from the couch, allowing the guy to sling an army lazily around his shoulder. Tim lets himself be led out of the back room of his house, and into the garden. There he finds a group of guys, sitting on the floor. He recognises most of them, but he’s not sure where from. School, maybe? Or were they other rich kids that his parents had forced him to mingle with at galas?
It didn’t really matter.
The guy who brought him outside pours the coke onto the patio table, gesturing to Tim, and then to the line. Tim mentally shrugs. What was one more substance?
…
Tim staggers through the halls of the manor, desperately trying to remember where the closest bathroom is. The bottle in his hand feels like it’s weighing him down as he pulls it up to reach his lips. Tim frowns as he empties the last of the vodka. The empty bottle makes him sad. He’s not sure why, it’s just alcohol after all.
Tim chucks the bottle haphazardly over his shoulder, checking briefly to see if anyone is behind him first. He flinches at the sound of glass shattering, then giggles when he realises he will be the one cleaning it up tomorrow. Or today . Tim didn’t know what time it was. What was time anyways? Oops, Tim was starting to sound like an idiot. Maybe he’d had too much to drink.
Tim turns the corner, and makes his way towards the staircase, which was barricaded off to discourage people from going upstairs. Tim could hear footsteps, there were definitely people up there right now.
He staggers up the steps slowly, clinging to the railing with a bit too much dependency.
He somehow makes it to the top. Tim feels bile rising to his throat, and rushes towards the nearest bathroom. To Tim’s luck, it’s empty. Tim makes it to the toilet before throwing up. He was just glad he wouldn’t have to clean his vomit in the morning.
Maybe he had made a mistake. Not throwing the party… that was… okay, maybe that part was dumb too.
But what Tim really regretted was the drinks. And the cocaine… yeah… the coke was stupid. At least it explained why the room was currently spinning.
Tim was… hungry… no, he was… sad? Yeah, that sounded right.
Tim considers calling Alfred, asking the man to pick him up, take him to the manor. He would undoubtedly say yes. Would probably make Tim some chamomile tea and take him up to his room with a stern look, but kind hands as he pulled open Tim’s covers for him to climb into bed.
Alfred wasn’t an option. Tim refused to disturb him. The man dealt with him enough as is.
Bruce was also out of the question, he was patrolling tonight. Considering Joker had broken out of Arkham last week, Batman would be too busy trying to find the lunatic to come over and deal with Tim in this state.
Dick was in Blüdhaven. Sure, he would come if Tim called. But Tim really didn’t want to worry his eldest brother. Besides, Blüd was… far away. Yeah, it was too far for him to travel just to take care of his slobbering drunk little brother. At least, that’s what Tim tells himself as he pulls up Jason’s contact on his cellphone.
It was the logical choice. Tim didn’t want to be a burden, but more importantly, he didn’t want to worry anyone. Jason, however, didn’t care about Tim, making him the perfect choice to call.
He picks up on the third ring. Tim blinks in surprise, he wasn’t sure if Jason would pick up at all. Maybe he wasn’t giving him enough credit.
“Somebody better be dead, replacement. Otherwise I’ll have to wring your skinny neck for waking me up at fucking 4:33 in the morning.”
“Hood! You answered… wasn’t sure… didn’t think you’d care… m’ so tired”
“The fuck kid? Are you okay? Why do you sound like Dickhead when he’s sleep deprived?”
“M’ not sleep deprived!” Tim lies, “Just wanted to call… needed to… to hear a familiar voice.” Tim should really hang up.
“…what the hell is wrong with you?” Uh oh, Jason sounded concerned. Tim regrets this drunken decision more than getting drunk in the first place.
“Nothing, m’ fine… was stupid, shouldn’t have called.”
“… are you fucking drunk, kid?”
Tim can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of his mouth. This whole situation was down right hilarious. And Jason even sounded less murderous than usual. What a birthday treat. Wait… was it even Tim’s birthday anymore? Jason said it was 4am and-
“Tim? Did you pass out, kid? Shit- I’m- I’m on my way, just stay where you are alright?”
Jason actually called him by his name. He must be really concerned. Tim should fix this. He would, if he had more energy. Which was also strange, considering about ten minutes ago Tim had practically been bouncing off the walls, and now he was slumped uncomfortably against the toilet lid and about to pass out. The thought causes him to giggle.
“Kid? What’s so funny?”
Tim can hear the sound of a motorcycle revving through the phone.
“Nothing. I’m fine. You should go back to sleep… sorry for waking you.”
“Hell no kid. You don’t get to wake me up with a drunken phone call, and then just tell me to leave it alone. Doesn’t work like that. Now, where the fuck are you?”
“The bathroom. Upstairs one. Near my parent’s room.” Tim replies, lying down on the bathroom floor and sighing as his head meets the cold tiles.
“You’re at Drake Manor? Okay, just stay where you are, I’ll be there in fifteen.”
Tim closes his eyes gently. “‘Kay. I think- I think I’m going to sleep now. ‘Night Jason… m’ glad you picked up…”
“Kid?… Tim! Shit- Tim, don’t fall asleep just yet, okay?… kiddo?…”
Tim’s breaths have already begun to deepen, and he drops the phone as his hands relax.
Jason was coming… to his house.
Alarm bells go off in Tim’s head as he remembers the party downstairs. But he’s too far asleep for the panic to properly register.
…
“-sit up for me, Tim?”
Jason’s voice is the first thing Tim hears when he comes to. The second thing is the deafening silence in the manor.
Tim allows his eyelids to flutter open, and he takes in the sight of Jason crouched over him where he is laying on the bathroom floor. Tim blinks as he pulls himself up, wincing at the pounding ache in his skull.
“Finally. Here, take this” Jason says, passing Tim an open bottle of water, which he takes gratefully. Tim takes a small sip, watching cautiously as Jason places a soft hand against his forehead.
“No fever, that’s something.”
Tim grunts in agreement, taking another sip of his water.
“God, kid, you fucking reek, how many times did you throw up?”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t fucking counting, Jason. I was too busy trying not to pass out.” Tim snarkily replies. He immediately regrets it when he spots his brother's irritated expression.
“Sorry… Shouldn’t have snapped. Thanks for coming.”
“You owe me, Tim. Now, come on, let’s get you off the floor.” Jason replies, reaching a hand out for Tim to take. Jason hauls him up, steadying him with a hand on the back. It makes Tim feel like a little kid.
He lets Jason lead him out of the bathroom, and down the hallway. Both of them ignore the mess; plastic cups littered everywhere and cigarette butts that were left on the floor.
Jason dumps Tim unceremoniously onto his bed, pulling back his covers like Tim imagined Alfred doing earlier.
Tim adjusts his pillow, closing his eyes gently and trying very hard not to cry from the pain in his head. He also attempts to ignore the phone call Jason is making. It sounds important. Tim can only make out snippets.
“-Needed help… not sure… drugs?… maybe, I would have to ask… come over… yes… okay, thanks… don’t tell Bruce.”
Was Jason talking about him? Why would he bother? And who could he even be calling?
Tim sighs in relief as Jason gently places a cold towel on his forehead, covering his eyes. He must make some sort of sound, because Jason laughs quietly. Tim is too tired to feel embarrassed.
“Tim, I need you to sit up for a second.” Tim groans in response, but opens his eyes nonetheless. Jason nods sympathetically, passing him ibuprofen. Tim takes three tablets, and slides back down into bed.
He can barely hear the sound of a door opening fifty minutes later, nor the sound of panicked footsteps as someone climbed the stairs two at a time.
Tim can’t hear anything, he’s too far gone.
…
Tim knows that it’s morning the next time he wakes up because of the sound of a bird chirping loudly outside his bedroom window. The light streaming in through the blinds was also a dead giveaway.
Tim feels a heavy weight at his shoulder, and turns with a groan to see his eldest brother curled up around his pillow, an arm slung protectively over Tim’s chest.
Tim’s eyes widen when he recalls the previous night. The party. The drinks. The drugs. And the phone call. Tim was a complete and utter imbecile.
Tim tries to sit up without waking Dick, planning to go downstairs to clean up, when he hears a noise from the other side of his room. Tim freezes as he spots Jason, sitting on a plush chair, staring directly at Tim.
He looks pissed off. Shit. Jason was pissed off with Tim.
Dick sleepily pulls Tim closer, his grip tightening, and Tim sighs in frustration. He was going to be so annoying when he woke up.
Jason continues to stare, challenging Tim to speak. He doesn’t. Tim’s an idiot, but even he’s not that dumb.
“So.” Jason starts, after a few minutes of silence. “Care to explain why my fifteen year old little brother got completely hammered last night? We’ll get to the drugs later.”
“Sixteen.” Tim mumbles.
Jason raises an eyebrow. “What was that? Want to speak a little louder, Kid?”
“I’m sixteen.” Tim repeats, a little louder this time. “It was my birthday yesterday.”
Jason shifts uncomfortably in the chair, his eyes softening as he leans forward to take a closer look at Tim’s face.
“So, what. You’re afraid of getting older? So you decided to throw a party and drink a dangerous amount of alcohol,” Jason says “Not to mention mixing drinks.”
Tim blinks, holding back tears.
“No,” He says “that’s not why I did this, and besides I know I screwed up, you don’t have to remind me”
Jason sighs and rises from the chair, taking his place on the bed next to where Dick is still laying.
“What was it then?”
“I just… didn’t want to be alone.”
Dick stirs before Tim can finish. Jason flicks him on the forehead to wake him up fully. This seems to do the trick, as Dick jumps up quickly, rising in the bed at a record pace. The rapid motion makes Tim’s headache worse, and he groans in response.
Dick takes a moment to adjust, before his eyes harden as he looks down at Tim. He shares a glance with Jason. Tim gulps. He knows what comes next.
“What do you mean, Tim? Why would you be alone?” Jason replies. Dicks eyebrows twist in confusion.
“Alone? Timmy, I thought you mentioned that your parents were going to be in town for your birthday. Happy birthday, by the way, thanks for returning my call.” Dick says, a hint of bitterness in his tone.
Tim flinches, he had seen Dick’s call come in last night. He ignored it in favour of chugging a bottle of whiskey with some girl from school.
“They were… they were supposed to be home.” Tim whispers, keeping his eyes down to avoid Dick’s piercing gaze. “They extended their trip last minute. I didn’t want to be alone”
Tim feels a soft hand rest on his shoulder, and blinks back tears to look up at Dick. His brother’s expression has turned soft, but there is a sadness to it that Tim, in his hungover state, can’t quite comprehend.
“That’s… I’m sorry, baby bird,” Dick sighs, “but you could have called me… or Jason for that matter. Or Bruce. Hell, even Alfred.”
Tim sucks his head again. “I didn’t want to bother you.”
Jason scoffs. “But calling me at an ungodly hour is perfectly fine?”
Tim sighs deeply, leaning against Dick, who wraps his arms around Tim carefully.
“I knew Dick would worry. I figured you might be angry, but you probably wouldn’t be stressed out. I am sorry I called you though, I should have dealt with it myself.”
Jason just shakes his head. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I worry? Do you even know how panicked I was when I came in to the bathroom to find you fucking unconscious?”
Tim blinks, he hasn’t thought of that. Jason scoffs again, reaching one hand up to his forehead in exasperation.
“Of course you didn’t.” He says. “Too fucking selfish to consider that, weren’t you?”
Jason begins pacing the room, and Tim buries his face in Dick’s shoulder, too ashamed to look at Jason. He was right, of course. Tim had only been thinking about himself and how bad he felt in that moment.
“Jason.” Dick warns, sending a stern but understanding look over to his younger brother.
“No, Dick, he needs to hear this.” Jason replies. “If you’re just going to sit there and coddle him, someone has to tell him how much he fucked up.”
“I think he knows Jason. Besides, this might be a better conversation to have when he’s sobered up a bit.”
The silence scares Tim more than he would like to admit.
“Fine. Fucking fine.” Jason replies, before storming out of the room.
Tim lets himself rest against Dick, electing to ignore the tear running down his cheek.
…
Jason stays. He cleans downstairs while Tim sleeps. Dick eventually joins him. They work methodically, both pausing when they find drugs scattered across the patio table. Neither say anything. Jason already knew, and Dick is too exhausted to speak.
Hours pass. Drake Manor becomes recognisable again. Ives stops by with a copy of his chemistry homework for Tim, inquires after his friend’s health, then promptly leaves.
Dick is painfully reminded that Tim was sick this week. It was why he had missed patrol, and Sunday night dinner with Alfred.
Dick wants to cry at how irresponsible his youngest brother was. Getting drunk when he was still recovering from an illness? Sure, it was just the common cold, but it was still a decision that Tim normally wouldn’t choose to make. A decision he probably wouldn’t have made, If his parents had been home.
Dick wants to murder Jack and Janet Drake. Jason agrees. Bruce, when they called, had talked them down. That wouldn’t stop Dick from sending them a very uncivil email on how to stop neglecting their sixteen year old son.
Him and Jason sit on the couch near the staircase, which is where Tim finds them twenty minutes later, his hair scruffy and eyes bloodshot.
He wordlessly sits down next to Dick, resting his head on his eldest brother's shoulder. It feels like an apology.
Dick hums as he takes his hand through Tim’s hair, softly stroking his head. Tim lets out a murmur of satisfaction, leaning closer to Dick.
Dick uses his other arm to tug Jason closer.
His brothers, both beside him. Jason groans in complaint and Dick just laughs. Tim giggles into Dick’s shoulder, wincing a second later. He probably still had a pounding headache.
Jason reaches across to a side table, taking out two pills of ibuprofen and hands them to Tim, who swallows them quickly.
“Happy late birthday Timmers, sorry I didn’t remember.” Jason sighs, finally leaning into Dick’s touch.
Tim smiles. It feels like forgiveness.