metalogs | grab your hat, get your coat, the cellar door is an open throat (open/closed)

If. If it can get that bad in TJ's world, where could it stop in his? The thing is, Tim thought that he knew something about where the line is. He tries to keep events from escalating and pushing that line, but he thought. He didn't think his dad would pull an actual gun on anyone. If that's possible, then where's the line? How far could his dad go, if pushed the right way?

He glances up and nods quietly at the request for permission to be hugged, and then he looks down again, so he doesn't have to look TJ in the eye. "I don't. I don't want B and my dad to meet," he says, low.

He pulls him in for a hug and keeps him there. It’s not as good as a hug from Dick or Bart, but it’s solid and anchoring and he can say it’s all for Tim.

(He’s fine. He’s fine.)

“Then don’t bring anything into the house. No matter how well secured, okay? Nothing. And whatever you’re using to cover your nocturnal activities, you have to actually do that too.”

And staying at the Wayne Manor needs to stop, but he can’t bring himself to voice that. That’s his link to Alfred, Dick, everything. To what family can actually be.

The hug is... it's nice. Not like one of Dick's, but nice. He lets it happen, and he stays quiet for a while and lets the suggestions sink in. They're not bad ideas, he's just... tired, all of the sudden, thinking about what it takes to maintain his life back home, keep it from blowing up in his face more than it already does.

A childish part of him wants to whine that it's not fair, he didn't ask to be born to Jack and Janet Drake. If they never wanted a kid anyway, couldn't they have just adopted someone older? Instead of making him hold all the pieces together?

A sound comes out of him that's suspiciously close to a sob, and he stiffens up immediately, because that wasn't supposed to happen.

Oh. He’s upset the delicate jenga of being Tim. All the carefully supported hollows and gaps are fine until the wrong piece is jostled and then the weight’s too much. He shouldn’t have suggested that Tim make the cover story real. It’s such a stressful time sink, and he’s still so young.

TJ reels him into a reel hug, the way he wished people would’ve done for him more. The kind of hug he pretends he doesn’t need. “Hey. You don’t have to hide from me. I might not know every detail, but I understand. I know how hard you work. I know they don’t tell you that you’re great, and they should. You’re Robin. You iii earned that. You look after yourself, and B, and smooth the path for everyone around you and they don’t even notice. But you’re allowed to be not okay.”

He swallows the tightness in his throat away. “You can stay with me if you want. Nobody else needs to know if you’re not okay. Drake secret.”

It hurts, hearing that all said out loud, even if it's sort of nice at the same time. He tucks his face into Tim's shoulder and tries not to let the one runaway sob turn into actual crying, because he doesn't want to make a Scene (more than he is already).

He finds himself saying, quietly, because TJ promised he'd understand: "They fight all the time now. And it feels like they'd be better off getting divorced but they don't want to, because of the company and how would it look, so they just make each other miserable instead, and if they did get a divorce, where would I even fit in anymore? They barely want me now."

Some kids' parents divorce and get nasty over who gets custody of who. Tim's pretty sure his parents would fight tooth and claw not to have him.

“With your friends.” No hesitation, nothing to hide.

“With your team. With Bruce and Dick and Alfred. You already know where you belong, Tim. It’s with people who are bright and too brave for their own good, and they bring out your responsible side because they’re not going to look after themselves . But they also bring out your sense of humor and make sure that you don’t forget to fit in normal experiences. They build skate ramps on the roof and stuff you with biscuits and tease you just to remind you that you blush.”

He’ll hug Tim as long as he lets him. He doesn’t have to look someone in the eye in a hug. It’s easier. “Found family is family. It’s family that chooses you for who and what you are. You have a place, Tim. You will always have a place.”

He leans his head against Tim’s. “My last name’s Drake-Wayne, if you need proof.”

Well.

He's no longer trying not to cry, because he's already lost at that. He lost it when TJ started saying he belongs, and it's good because someone who knows is saying out loud that he has a place that doesn't depend on conforming to his parents' requirements, and it's horrible because TJ's saying that place just - isn't with his parents. And yeah, he used to daydream about what it would be like being a Wayne, and what he is now is almost as good, but it's not quite the same.

"I don't want to give up on them." But at the same time, a little piece of him almost does because trying so hard all the time is just so exhausting. Does that make him terrible?

And now it’s TJ in the emotional blast range. Hugging his crying alt self is… too enlightening, and he doesn’t want this insight. He’s already living an examined life; this is precipitously close to being too much.

But Tim needs this. He needed this himself, once, and didn’t get it until he was already mending. “You won’t have to. It’s not a zero sum game. The great thing about found family is you can keep finding them. Doesn’t mean you give up on them. You just get to spread the load across multiple servers. If Mom and Dad want to engage more positively, you’ll still be there. But not giving up on them doesn’t mean carrying the load yourself.”

"It still feels like giving up on them."

Like betraying them. Because he's supposed to be a Drake first and foremost, right? No matter what they've done - no matter what's happened. So what does that even mean if he accepts that they don't... have to occupy that place in his life anymore?

“I didn’t give up on them,” he says, voice thick with emotion. He didn’t give up on them, and they didn’t give up on him. They died. It wasn’t their choice, or his. “Caring about other people doesn’t mean that you give up on them. Love isn’t a finite resource. I didn’t stop being Ives’ friend because I met Bart.”

"My parents wouldn't think of it like that," he says. It's part of why he hasn't told them about staying with the Waynes when they're gone. For all that they don't pay much attention to him 99% of the time, they also get weird when he steps out of their mold of the perfect son even an inch.

“My parents left me alone with the housekeeper for weeks at a time. Without, sometimes. And it wasn’t enough to have Bruce move me into the Manor.”

He wants to scream that they’re hypocrites, that they’ve clearly given up on Tim. It only really changed after Jack’s injury. He started taking more of an interest in his son then, because jetsetting wasn’t easy anymore.

But he can’t. He can only guide as long as Tim is defending them.

“You weren’t staying with Bruce then?” he asks, mildly confused because the Bats had made it very clear that going home to an empty house wasn’t an option once they realized it was empty. He’d assumed the same went for TJ at some point.

“No, I lived down the road at our house, and then in the downtown brownstone.” He doesn’t know if the locations matter, but they might strike a familiar chord. “I stayed with him a few months when dad was sick, but I didn’t move in until I was sixteen.”

“Oh.”

At least the conversation is… moving to something mildly more neutral. He doesn’t know which property would be down the road, but he recognizes the brownstone. “Bruce kind of - made me move in, once he realized how much time my parents spent away.” Not for lack of Tim trying to cover it up.

“I tried to avoid it too,” Tim says without elaborating. “Before that, I think as long as they knew Mrs. Mac was around, they weren’t overly worried. Dick made me come to the Titans Christmas dinner one year, though, when he found out they weren’t back yet.”

“It’s nice, though,” Tim says because he’s not sure what else to say. It’s true. Living at Wayne Manor is much better than any of the Drake properties. Even if everyone happens to be out of the house, he never feels alone in the same way.

“I know. And I know I’ll always have a place with Bruce.”

Just not at the Manor, because no one’s there at the moment.

“It doesn’t feel like a freshly sterilized modern art museum. It’s big and echoing, but then you open a door and find Dick’s old room. You know where to find Bruce at 7, or Damian in the morning, and you know what rooms are empty if you want space. But back then?”

He shakes his head. “Space was all I wanted.”

He finally disentangles himself from the hug, because now seems like the right time to do it. It was a good hug, though, and he’s kind of reluctant.

“I haven’t even found Damian here. Are you sure he really exists?”

He’s just going to ruffle Tim’s hair and try not to laugh. “He exists. He texted me not too long ago. I… get the feeling he’s still in space-needing stage, and I’m okay with that. We don’t get along in my universe.”

Wow, okay. His hair was fine as it was, and he ducks away from the hair ruffle. He thought he was safe here!

“Why don’t you get along?”

Sorry, Tim. That’s the rules: if you’re Tim, the hair must be ruffled affectionately. He sort of gets it now. But he is safe, and TJ breaks the contact much faster than Dick or Jason would.

(And it’s not because the question threw him.)

(It did, but they’re disconnected threads.)

“Damian lived with his mother at first. When he came to live with Bruce, he saw me as a threat to his role. He didn’t see Jason or Dick as poorly; they were independent adults, and I was still a minor.”

That’s… fair, right? It’s so hard to know what neutral is, with any Damian, and what Tim needs to know for his own protection. The Jasons blew it, but that doesn’t mean Damian would. Or that they’d even interact. Damian’s practically a hermetic ghost.

“Who’s his mother?” Tim asks as he attempts to smooth his hair back out after the vicious attack. Because it’s a reasonable follow-up question, even if he’s unknowingly stepping onto a land mine.

He sucks in a quiet breath through barely unclenched teeth.

“You’re going to jump to conclusions. I wouldn’t commit to them yet.” Because we’re just rolling through the open family secrets. “His mother is Talia al Ghul.”

“She’s - what?”

Oh, he is jumping to conclusions. He is jumping to all the conclusions. “How?!”

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