Chapter Text
Tim had known that Dick was an incubus since he was ten. It wasn’t too hard to put together after figuring out Batman and Robin. Though, this secret is much better hidden, as Tim’s pretty sure even Batman himself doesn't know.
Which is worrying, because Dick is very affectionate by nature and Bruce…isn't. At least not outside of his Brucie persona. Which is mostly used at galas and business meetings as far as Tim can tell.
Dick moved away soon after Tim discovered the Big Secret. He took on a new city and mantle whereas Batman got moody and morose, more so than usual that is.
Tim started getting the bus over to Bludhaven a few times a week due to this change. At first, Dick seemed to be doing well. He was slowly adjusting to his new life and while Tim missed Robin, he was happy for him.
Then, after a week, Dick seemed more drawn, tired and pale, he was making mistakes, struggling through fights he could win with his eyes closed and he wasn’t doing any of his showy tricks.
At first, Tim thought it was a bug, then an illness when it only got worse after another week. Then Nightwing went on patrol with Kid Flash, with each shoulder bump, laugh and hug, Dick’s face got less pale and his illness seemed to slip off his shoulders like water.
That’s when Tim knew. He had seen the same thing with Sebastian when his parents had to leave on business for a few weeks and he was left with a nanny who, while good at her job, wasn’t very open or physically affectionate.
Tim decided that he would keep an eye on the situation from a distance. Hopefully, now that Dick was adjusting, he’d feel free to reach out to his friends more.
-
Things were fine, for a while.
Batman got a new Robin. Jason was different from Dick, but he embodied the light of the mantle all the same.
Dick would visit Gotham more often. He looked relatively healthy, from what Tim could tell.
Tim would go from rooftop to rooftop, following them on patrol. And for a couple of years, everyone was good.
Then Jason died.
-
Tim knew that it was a long shot trying to get Dick to take on the Robin mantle again, even temporarily. But Bruce was refusing to look for one himself and Tim was running out of options.
All those worries flew out of his head when Dick opened the door.
He looked awful. His face was bleached white, the skin drawn tight around his skull as if all the flesh in between had disappeared. His eyes were tired and empty with dark circles under them. His hair was lanky and greasy, hanging around his face like a curtain.
Tim was hoping that the sweater Dick was wearing was meant to be oversized as the other option was a lot scarier.
Honestly, Tim wasn’t even sure how he was standing, nevermind going out as Nightwing.
The idea of Dick going out like this, being alone like this had Tim’s stomach dropping. It had taken Sebastian years to recover from his close call, though that was mostly because he was a kid. Then again, Dick’s only nineteen.
“Hey,” Dick's eyes sharpened, he leaned past Tim to look out into the hallway. “Are you okay?”
Oh, Tim had forgotten incubi could sense emotions. Of course they can, it’s how they feed. But bad emotions can make them sick. How sick has Tim made Dick just by standing here, silently freaking out?
“Kiddo?” Dick prompted, gentle and patient despite how exhausted he must be.
Actually, what had made Dick this ill in the first place? It had only been a week since he was in Gotham–
Bruce.
Anger welled up in him, of course Bruce wouldn’t stop at making the whole of Gotham miserable and afraid due to his grief. No, he had to hurt his own son with it too. After he’d just lost his little brother.
Why did Tim think this was a good idea?
–Because he wanted to do something for Jason after being unable to help him, to keep his memory alive as if it would make up for not keeping Jason alive–
But what was there to preserve with this? Not light, not magic, just a leash for a grieving man who refuses to keep himself in check.
Bruce let his first Robin starve, drove the second one to his death and now he’s hurting Dick again.
He doesn’t deserve a Robin.
“This was a stupid idea.” Tim muttered to himself.
“What?” Dick’s brow creased.
“Nothing. Nevermind. Sorry for wasting your time.” Tim’s grip on the file tightened as he turned to leave.
Maybe he could buy some tranquillizer darts and shoot them whenever Batman starts to go too far. Arranging a way to move him afterwards would be a struggle, but doable–
“Wait,” Dick took a few steps after him. “You’re Tim Drake. You live next door to the manor.”
The one time he didn’t want Dick to remember him.
“What are you doing all the way out here? You’re not by yourself, are you?” Dick questioned, he seemed weirdly concerned.
“I’m not a kid.” Tim said. “I can take a bus on my own.”
“Jesus.” Dick groaned. “Your parents must be worried sick.”
“It’s fine, they’re in Peru.” Tim waved him off.
“The nanny has probably called them by now.” Dick said.
“Again, I’m not a kid. I don’t have a nanny.” Tim shrugged. Dick’s face went impossibly paler and he swayed in place. Tim’s chest tightened and he stepped back towards Dick. “You should lie down, you don’t look well.”
“Aren’t you a charmer?” Dick laughed, it brought a little light back to his eyes. “I can’t leave you to wander Bludhaven alone, it’s too dangerous.”
That would be an understandable sentiment if Tim were from any city other than Gotham.
“I have pepper spray. And a lighter and deodorant.” Tim patted his jacket pocket.
Dick looked even more concerned, which was frankly, unwarranted. "Yeah, I'm taking you home."
Dick had unknowingly switched to the tone he used as Nightwing. The firm, yet reassuring voice he used on kids he came across on patrol.
Part of it made Tim feel warm, the other made his chest go even tighter with anxiety. Dick was way too sick to be doing anything, nevermind taking Tim all the way back to Gotham.
But Dick didn’t look like he’d be persuaded to do otherwise. Tim could say yes, then ditch Dick when he wasn’t looking. But that would risk Dick possibly looking for him which would be even worse.
"After you have a nap." Tim negotiated, gesturing to Dick’s apartment door. "Go on, I'll wait."
Dick's eyes narrowed. "I don't think you will."
Oh, Dick can taste lies too. Or anxiety, which Tim is feeling a lot of right now.
Maybe Tim didn't have to leave right away. Just because the New Robin Project was being discontinued, doesn't mean that Tim can't find another way to help the original one.
"I don't want to be a bother." Tim said, giving Dick the chance to leave him be.
A series of quick, indecipherable emotions crossed Dick's face, before he settled on something warm. "You're not."
New plan, let Dick take him home, set Mr. Pennyworth on him and anonymously contact Superman and threaten him into wrangling Bruce.
“I just have to get changed, then I’ll take you home.” Dick smiled weakly when Tim hummed in agreement, he turned back to his apartment. “Come on in.”
Tim gave a mental shrug before following him inside, closing the door behind him.
His breath caught. Dick's apartment was a mess. Not that Tim could throw any stones, considering the state of his own room, but still, this was bad.
Old take-out cluttered the countertops, dirty dishes were almost overflowing in the sink, clothes, shoes and papers carpeted the floor and couch.
Honestly, if Tim didn't know Dick as he did, he'd think he'd walked into a serial killer's lair.
Dick didn’t seem to notice the mess, tiredly making his way through it toward what Tim assumed was his bedroom.
He supposes if you see a mess every day it slowly begins to stop looking like one.
"I'll just be a few minutes." Dick said, looking back at Tim with tired eyes. “Make yourself at home.”
Tim nodded and Dick closed the door behind him.
After a few minutes, Tim was pretty sure that Dick would probably be taking longer than planned. From how lethargic his movements were, Tim wouldn’t be surprised if he took half an hour or more just to get dressed.
Tim looked around the apartment again as if the mess would suddenly look less awful after a few minutes of ignoring it. That wasn’t the case.
Tim spotted a trash bag next to a few cleaning supplies. Maybe Dick wasn’t as apathetic to the mess as Tim initially thought.
Tim thought back to when Sebastian got emotion starved. How he could barely move, even after his parents got back and got him on a recovery plan.
Bernard and Tim had helped keep Sebastian on top of school work and helped as much as his parents would let them.
It was that thought that had Tim picking up the trash bag and making his way towards the worst of the mess.
He started putting the old takeout containers in the bag, filling the whole thing to the brim and tying it off. He spotted a laundry basket in the corner of the living room and started putting all the dirty clothes from the floor and couch in there.
He picked up the stray papers and left them in neat piles on the newly cleaned coffee table.
He was halfway through the dishes when Dick came out, looking only slightly less corpse-like.
When Dick’s eyes went wide and his knuckles went white from where his hand was clutching the doorframe, Tim realized that he’d essentially just started cleaning a distant aquaintence’s house without so much as a thought.
-
A storm of horror and shame tore through Dick as he looked over his newly cleaned apartment and the kid he brought in, elbow deep in the kitchen sink with rows of sparkling clean dishes beside him.
A child had just cleaned his apartment. A child who was alone in Bludhaven, who Dick practically dragged into said apartment– oh God, he must be terrified.
As if to confirm it, the sharp, bitter taste of anxiety wafted towards him.
"I'm so sorry." Dick said. "I didn't mean to– you don't have to do this."
Confusion started to overtake the anxiety. Dick wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.
“I swear I actually am going to take you home, this isn’t like, a kidnapping or–”
The sound of laughter and the taste of amusement filled the room. Dick blinked, the dizziness that had been persisting for the last few days subsided slightly.
“I know you’re not a kidnapper.” Tim smiled at him.
Dick breathed out a sigh, the tight, sickening feeling fading away. “Good, that’s good.”
“You’d be a really bad one if you were, leaving me unsupervised with access to the front door.” Tim added.
Dick rolled his eyes. “Okay–”
“Plus I’m pretty sure I could take you in a fight.” Tim added.
“You think?” Dick laughed. The kid was tiny, with bright eyes and fluffy hair. Then again, so was Dick once upon a time and he had no problem taking down guys twice his size.
Neither had Jas–
The sick feeling returned as if it had never left. His own instincts siphoning off his emotions and twisting them up inside until Dick felt as if he was going to fall.
Dick took in a slow, quiet breath. He couldn’t lose it now, not when a kid is depending on him to get him home safely.
After a few moments, things settled enough that he could ignore it for the time being.
Pulling himself together, he looked back at Tim. "I don't have a car, but I can get you home on my bike, if you're good with that?"
The sweet, zesty taste of excitement filling the air showed that Tim was more than happy with that.
"Sure." Tim said, looking two seconds away from bouncing on the balls of his feet.
"Thanks for, uh," Dick gestured to his now clean living space.
Tim shrugged. "It was no problem."
Dick respectfully disagreed, but said nothing. He made a note to get the kid an ice cream when he had more energy.
Tim picked up his Star Wars backpack, swinging it over his shoulders and bounding towards the door. Dick distantly wondered if he was that energetic at Tim's age.
He spotted a red folder on the table with old cartoon stickers scattered on the cover.
While Dick was known to be a little childish at times– but really, what adult wasn't?– that folder most definitely didn't belong to him.
“Oh, don’t forget your–” A few papers fell out as Dick lifted it up, revealing pictures of Nightwing, Robin and Batman in the middle of a fight with Poison Ivy. “Files.”
“Ah. Those.” Tim laughed nervously, the sharp, citrus-like taste filling the air.
Dick stared at him. Maybe the kid was just a fan, who happened to tote about a heavy folder full of pictures, bar graphs and pages of notes on them. It was possible. Weird, but nothing too out there by Gotham standards.
"I know you're Nightwing." Tim said, effectively smiting away Dick's hopeful optimism. "I like the new suit by the way. It's way cooler than the Elvis look you were going for before." He added.
Dick closed his eyes, wishing he could just go back to bed and sleep until life made sense again.
"Right." Dick sighed. "Looks like we're gonna have to chat."
The sharp, fruity taste of nervous enthusiasm wafted over to him, taking the edge off his tiredness.
It was off-putting, but kind of cute, how happy Tim was about this. For the first time in months, Dick felt just a little less frail.
-
Dick spent the next hour and a half listening as Tim took him through everything. From the circus to Robin to where they are now. He used both pictures and charts from his file to help emphasize his points.
He was like Bruce, except cute, endearing and in possession of a little more emotional intelligence.
"I was going to ask you to be Robin again, but then I realized that Batman doesn't deserve a Robin." Tim concluded.
Dick wasn’t in the headspace to even try to defend Bruce. So he hummed in acknowledgment, which Tim seemed to take as an agreement.
"But something needs to be done." Tim said, pointing at the chart detailing Batman’s rise in unnecessary force.
Dick nodded. "I see–"
"But don't worry, I'll handle it." Tim said. He had a calculating gleam in his eye.
Dick bit back a smile. As funny as it would be to see a five foot two, twelve year old try to correl Batman, he couldn’t let that happen.
"Tim, you are a civilian, not only that, you're a child. You shouldn't even be doing this much." Dick said.
Tim's face shuttered. The bitter taste of hurt, anxiety and regret filled the room.
"Hey," Dick ignored the sick feeling making his head spin. He moved over to sit beside Tim, putting a hand on his shoulder. "That came out wrong. I just mean that you shouldn't be having to deal with adults' problems for them. It's not fair on you and it wouldn't be right of us to let you do that."
He meant every word of it. Having to deal with Bruce's emotions alongside his own was draining, especially when he hit his teens and they were fighting all the time.
He wouldn't subject another kid to that.
Dick was happy to taste the relief wafting through the air. The rich, spicy taste of fierce determination, not so much.
"It's no problem. I already ordered the tranquilizer darts." Tim said earnestly.
Dick blinked. "The what, now?"
-
They managed to come to an agreement.
Dick would call Superman to come in and handle Bruce for a while. In exchange, Tim wouldn’t follow Batman until things calmed down.
Dick just hadn't realized it would result in Tim following him instead.
"I already follow your patrol on weekends anyway, now we're just adding weekdays." Tim said, trying to get out of Dick's hold.
Dick held the scruff of Tim’s hoodie tighter. Biting back a laugh at the strong taste of indignance filling the air. "We're doing no such thing."
"I got a really good picture of you flipping over that crate." Tim remarked, refusing to acknowledge Dick’s statement.
Dick had quickly learned that Tim was good at conveniently not hearing things he didn't want to deal with. Hence, why he had to confiscate the tranquilizers Tim had ordered after catching him using them on a group trying to sneak up on Nightwing.
Tim stared up at Dick with wide, hopeful eyes.
Dick sighed. "Show me the picture." He said, softer than he meant to.
Tim grinned and leaned over to give Dick a better view of the small screen on the camera.
The light taste of happiness filled the alleyway.
-
Tim wasn’t sure how to help Dick feed. He knew that it was ideal for the emotions to be in the happy spectrum, but he wasn’t sure how to make himself feel happy. Or how to get Dick to feed without making him worry about revealing his secret.
So he told Sebastian his problem.
Not all of it, of course. He wasn't going to out Dick. As either Nightwing or an incubus.
He kept the problem clear, but the details vague. It was more difficult than it should have been. Tim loved little details, after all.
"Dude, what are you talking about? Just feed him the way you do with me." Sebastian said after Tim had finished explaining.
"Huh?"
"That paper you gave me is still valid right?" Sebastian clarified.
"One, it's a contract–" Tim corrected.
Sebastian snorted. "It was written in glitter ink and has Power Rangers stickers on it."
"Okay, shut up." Tim hushed him. "Two, of course it's valid, I wrote forever on it. I just didn't think that my emotions were of much use."
"I don't depend on them or anything, but they boost me up a lot throughout the week." Sebastian said. "Don't think too much about being happy around your friend, just let it happen. Plus most other emotions work for us too, happy or even neutral, just don't purposefully project bad emotions. Unless they're being an asshole."
Tim typed all of this out on his phone, ignoring Sebastian's amused look as he did. He liked his notes, okay? He'd already given up on his details today, he couldn’t sacrifice the notes too.
So he continued typing away, splitting everything into bullet points, colour coded by most important and split into categories. Perfectly ordered, as all things should be.
-
After many fruitless attempts at trying to get Tim to stay indoors during patrol, Dick eventually gave up.
It was like trying to wrangle a particularly determined cat.
So, Dick had given Tim a bulletproof vest, a panic button and a com, along with starting to teach him the basics of self-defence.
Tim's emotions had been a strange mix of excitement, confusion, happiness and nervousness when Dick informed him of this new plan.
A warm, fond feeling spread through his chest. Something that seemed to build even when Tim was being as stubborn as possible.
He wondered if this was how Bruce felt about him. Though, from what Dick can remember, Tim is a lot sweeter. He had yet to curse anyone out in Russian after all.
The taste of enthusiasm was a constant presence during their lessons, Tim thrumming with excited, hopeful energy.
Half of their self-defence lessons ended up turning into gymnastics tutorials due to Tim's curiosity on the subject. And Dick's inability to say no to those puppy eyes.
Or to the sweet, rich taste of awe filling the room whenever he taught Tim a new move.
He wondered if that was what his mom tasted when she first started teaching Dick acrobatics.
Tim's presence was a bright spot amongst what felt like an endless montage of grey. It was also very stressful. Particularly on patrol.
Dick was in the middle of taking down a small arms deal. He'd subdued most of the gang and was fighting it out with the last guy who was surprisingly fast for someone so large.
Then again, Bruce was around the same build and he was also pretty quick on his feet.
"Two-Face's sad twin is sneaking up on you." Tim’s voice came through the com. He was perched on one of the nearby rooftops, hopefully not too close to the action.
Dick bit back a laugh. It was an apt name for the guy, with half his face covered in badly crafted tattoos. "I'll handle it." He swept Discount Bruce's feet out from under him and swiftly knocked him out.
"I got it." Tim said. The certainty in his voice filled Dick with dread rather than reassurance.
"Tim, no–"
A grunt and an ominous thump sounded from behind him.
Dick turned round to see Two-Face’s sad twin face down on the ground with a dart in his neck.
"Got him." Tim said proudly.
Dick stared between the two rooftops Tim could have been on to get that angle, a noise from the roof on the left had him walking over and grappling up.
Tim was still looking through the lens of his camera, it obscured most of his face, only letting Dick see a head of fluffy hair and small hands holding the camera up.
"We've talked about the tranquilizers." Dick said.
Tim hummed. "It's more like a sedative."
"Tim."
Tim peeked over the camera, blinking up at Dick with wide, owlish eyes. "Are you mad?" Tim's voice was small, his baby blues glimmering suspiciously under the moonlight.
Dick could taste the mischievousness in the air, fruity and sweet. He knew Tim wasn’t the slightest bit worried or upset.
And yet. "No, tiny tot, I'm not mad." Dick sighed.
The tears disappeared and Tim grinned. "So I can keep the gun?" He held it up hopefully.
Dick snatched it out of his hands. "No." He said firmly. At Tim’s pout, he sighed again. "But you can have a taser if you behave."
Tim perked up. Dick laughed and ruffled his hair, pulling him in for a side hug.
A blast of happy emotions – rich, sweet and zesty– barreled through the air, feeding Dick with each breath until he almost felt bloated.
It was something that happened with Tim at random points, when they were training, getting ice cream or even when Dick walked into a room after being out for a few minutes.
It was overwhelming, but in a good way. It reminded Dick of his days at the circus where he was surrounded by lovely emotions, revitalizing him with each breath so that he never knew hunger.
He smiled to himself, holding Tim closer. Even if he couldn’t feed off the emotions around them, he had a feeling that the warm, fierce feeling in his chest would remain.
-
The tasers on the market were useless. They could only take down one person at a time, which was not good enough for his babybird.
So, Dick called in a favour and now Tim was the proud owner of an electric bo staff.
Very proud. Dick caught him fighting invisible bad guys with it when he popped over to Drake manor.
Tim was dressed in a Nightwing sweater and Wonder Woman joggers, jumping and flipping around the room twirling his staff and snapping out cheesy one-liners as he doled out hits.
He was horrified when he saw Dick with his phone out, videoing the whole thing from the window ledge.
Despite Tim’s crocodile tears, Dick did not delete the video he took. It was too cute and perfect to blackmail Tim with if he ever went through with ordering the horse tranquilizers Dick had forbidden him from getting.
Dick added the video to his Oracle encrypted family file. It was the first thing he'd added since Jason's death.
He thinks Jason would have liked it. He hopes so.
-
Despite Tim having made it his job to help Dick feed, Dick seemed to be under the impression that Tim also needed feeding.
Mostly takeout. Though Dick had made Tim slightly burned grilled cheese a few times for a snack. It was one of Tim's favourite foods now.
He also picked Tim up from school a couple of times a week. No one had done that since Tim was eight. It was kind of strange, but it made him feel warm.
It was unexpected. How whenever Tim reached out, Dick always reached back. Whether it be through phone calls, texts or visits. No one but Bernard, Darla and Sebastian had ever done that.
It was easy to project happy emotions around Dick, because Dick made it easy for him to feel happy. To feel cared for.
Which is why, when Dick got ambushed by a dozen goons working for a boss Nightwing had angered. When they got in one too many hits and Dick fell–
– Like the circus, when Dick collapsed beside his parent's bodies and Tim had thought he'd died too until he started screaming–
–off the crate he'd been standing on and onto the cold, unforgiving concrete, with five goons about to descend on him.
Tim grappled off the roof, swinging down and kicking the biggest guy in the chest as he landed. He flicked his staff onto the highest voltage and promptly got to work.
-
"They were going to kill you!" Tim yelled, throwing the ice pack onto the couch.
Dick distantly noted that it was the first time he'd heard Tim raise his voice.
He also noted that a large, fist shaped bruise was already forming on Tim's cheek from a stray hit one of the goons had gotten in.
Said goon's arm was now broken.
"They could have killed you." Dick said, barely keeping his temper in check. Anger was the easier emotion, better than the gut-wrenching terror he felt when he saw Tim jump into that fight.
Images of Jason and Tim, dead and dying, overlapped one another every time Dick closed his eyes for more than a few seconds.
The sharp , acidic taste of hurt, frustration and fear filled the air.
Dick's stomach dropped. He wasn't going the right way about this. God, he was acting like Bruce.
Dick took in a slow breath, trying to clear his head. To figure out why Tim was afraid.
"Tim," He softened his voice, pausing as he tried to find the right words to say.
I can’t lose you.
If you died, I don't think I'd ever recover.
I just need you to be safe. Please, be safe.
He didn’t get the chance to say anything. The sharp taste of fear and the saltwater bitterness of sadness started filling the room in waves as Tim’s eyes filled with tears.
Real ones, that made Dick feel as if he'd been punched in the chest.
"You fell." Tim choked out.
Oh. Dick's breath caught.
Sometimes he forgot that Tim remembered the night at the circus.
Dick pulled Tim into his arms, running a hand up and down his arm like his mom used to do for him when he got scared. Tim hid his face in Dick's shoulder, not crying, but not not crying either.
"Is that why–" Dick cut himself off. Is that why you ran into that fight?
Tim, sharp as he was, heard his unasked question anyway.
"I'm not going to stand by if I can help." He said, quiet but determined.
In other words, Dick was never going to get beat up or kidnapped in peace again.
Because Tim was as persistent as a Robin and instead of Batman, he'd chosen Dick. And Dick was terrified of what that could mean for Tim.
What it had meant for Jason.
"Okay," Dick let out a shaky breath and resisted the urge to close his eyes. The images he would see wouldn’t calm him. "Okay, we'll talk about that later."
Tim hummed and leaned against him, going completely lax. He looked exhausted. And who could blame him? They'd had a hectic, exhausting night even by Bat standards.
After a few minutes of silence, Dick spoke up once more.
"Thank you, for saving me." He kissed the top of Tim's head.
Tim really had saved him. Not just tonight. But every day. In a million little ways that neither of them would be able to fully comprehend.
Tim smiled, a small, quiet thing. "Anytime."
He leaned his head against Dick's shoulder and closed his eyes. Soon, his breaths evened out.
Dick had no idea when the kid with too many photographs and a worrying amount of charts became his little brother, but he found himself pretty happy about it all the same.
A low, soft trill escaped his lips. Dick blinked in surprise at himself. He hadn't done that since the circus, when he'd greet his parents with a happy trill every morning.
When his mom would hold him at night, trilling in contentment as he fell asleep in her arms.
He looked down to make sure he hadn't woken Tim up. Tim was still happily snoozing away on his chest.
After a few minutes, Dick closed his eyes. He fell asleep to fuzzy images of a trailer and the bright smiles of the family he missed alongside the family he has.