Chapter Text
Limbo is kind of a strange place to be.
Is it a thousand times better than whatever the hell the last few months of Tim’s life has been?
Absolutely.
Is it still mildly uncomfortable?
See previous answer.
Obviously, there’s expected to be a transition period between Point A, being imprisoned by an international crime syndicate, and Point B, living a categorically 'normal' life, but Tim hasn’t quite grasped this concept yet.
A month following their official return to Gotham and it’s yet another quiet night at the manor.
They sit watching Damian’s favorite Finding Nemo as pleasant pre-summer warmth hangs in the air, a symphony of crickets perform their chirpy composition, and balmy winds blow through the cozy living room.
By all accounts, it’s a picture perfect evening, but still, there’s that nagging voice in Tim’s busy mind telling him he should be planning, researching, strategizing, training – basically any “-ing” verb that isn’t related to relaxing.
If he’s being completely honest, he hadn’t really thought much beyond ‘escape the League of Assassins at all costs’ in his original plans, so he’s now left with a blank slate, one that comes with the added pressure of raising a pup.
The future is imminent, and as Damian squeezes himself deeper into the small gap between his parents and enthusiastically commentates on the film they’ve seen a minimum of sixteen times, Tim’s mind embarks on yet another ultramarathon of contemplation.
What if I can’t be the kind of mother Dami deserves?
“Baba, remember you are Crush and I am Squirt,” Damian reminds, pointing first at the big turtle on the screen then at the little one.
Won’t he need to be enrolled in preschool soon?
“Totally, duuude,” Jason drawls, pulling a giggle from Damian with his surprisingly spot-on imitation of the laid-back turtle.
He’s still so attached to us… Will he be alright going to school with other kids?
“And Mama is the jellyfish!”
What about our living situation? We can’t stay at the manor much longer, for both Jason’s and my sake.
“Why’s Mama the jellyfish?”
I still have to meet with Dr. Thompkins about my new medication, especially since I’m apparently fertile now…
“Because he is pretty!”
And I’ll have to finish school at one point. Is college even an option? Do I want it to be?
“You can say that again,” Jason laughs as he throws an arm over the back of the couch, rubbing gentle circles into Tim’s shoulder with his thumb.
Jason will want to finish school too, at least his GED. Does that mean we’ll need a babysitter? I don’t feel comfortable leaving Dami alone with anyone though…
“But Mama is more pretty,” Damian says very seriously, making sure to clarify the distinction.
Plus, there’s all the vigilante stuff. Should Red Robin even exist anymore? I have different priorities now, but it’s hard to let it go…
“I couldn’t agree more, kiddo,” Jason nods, his hand sliding further up Tim’s nape to rest on his mating bite, “but I think Mama is a bit more like Marlin right now.”
When are we going to tell Dami about the baby? How are we going to tell Dami about the baby?
“Why like Marlin?” Damian asks, confused.
We need to sort out Dami’s documents ASAP, Jason’s too. God, this is a mess, what are we going to–
Tim’s train of thought comes to a screeching halt when he receives a light flick to the forehead and turns to lock eyes with his mate’s lovingly stern gaze.
“Because he won’t. stop. worrying,” Jason very pointedly says, emphasizing each word with another soft tap.
Tim can’t help the small smile that creeps onto his face. Leave it to his Alpha to drag him out of his infinite loop of Overthinking Hell.
“I think I’d rather be the pretty jellyfish,” he chuckles as he leans further into his mate and affectionately squishes Damian’s cheeks together.
“Then you gotta learn to go with the flow, duuude,” Jason teases with that ridiculous surfer accent. “Right, Dami?”
“Yes, Mama,” Damian agrees, relaxing his shoulders and melting further into Jason’s arms like butter, “you must go with the flow, duuude.”
It’s legitimately criminal how cute their pup is, and both Tim and Jason struggle to contain themselves as they witness Damian’s adorable antics.
“I guess you two will have to teach me to ‘go with the flow’ then,” Tim laughs, leaving a surplus of kisses on his baby’s face before standing to refill their snacks.
Though it’s not easy, Tim gradually learns to relax and let things – both the laughably trivial and the frightfully daunting – come as they are, and it’s not until weeks later, during one of their long conversations that last deep into the night, that they officially make the decision to move out.
With Jason now able to walk and Tim’s unbalanced hormones now much less unbalanced (not balanced, just less unbalanced), their lives are awarded a sense of stability neither of them has even sniffed in years, allowing them to look to the future with cautious optimism.
“This weekend,” Jason says suddenly, staring at the ceiling in a daze as Damian sleeps facedown on his chest, a pool of drool gathering at his collarbone.
Tim says nothing in response, his head resting comfortably on Jason’s shoulder as he brushes his fingers along the sleeping pup’s face, admiring his peaceful expression with unbridled fondness.
The topic of moving out has come up countless times before, and while the manor holds a special place in their hearts, it’s also the house Jason lived in prior to his violent murder and the house in which Tim suffered a traumatic miscarriage, so their eagerness to leave isn’t entirely misplaced.
“We could do it in half a day. Maybe less.”
“Mhm,” Tim hums softly, his agreement apparent, “what about Dami?”
Jason breathes a light laugh, poking at his pup’s pudgy cheeks, “He’s a tough kid, he’ll be alright.”
“Okay,” Tim whispers, pressing his body closer to his mate as fatigue takes the reins, “we can tell B in the morning…”
As it turns out, Bruce had a similar idea, and right after breakfast, they’re hit with the universal string of words that has a one hundred percent success rate of instilling dread in the recipient.
“We need to talk.”
As Damian continues to climb his baba like a jungle gym after drinking one too many cups of orange juice, Tim and Jason share a nervous glance before turning their attention to Bruce who stands by the doorway to the kitchen.
Things have been fairly smooth since they had reconciled, so it comes as a surprise to see him suddenly looking so serious and grave.
“About what?” Tim asks as he plucks Damian from Jason’s back, slightly nervous.
“Preferably without…” Bruce trails off, clearing his throat as his eyes flit briefly to the pup squirming in Tim’s arms.
After a prolonged moment of hesitation and silent, almost telepathic communication, Jason and Tim concede.
“Dami, how about you play with Alfie for a bit while Baba and I talk to B?” Tim asks sweetly as he sets him down.
Clinging to Tim’s legs, Damian shakes his head vigorously, clearly unhappy with the idea of leaving his parents alone with Bruce.
Though he’s gotten much more comfortable with Bruce, the pup is still a tad apprehensive around him, so his disapproval is far from surprising.
“It’ll be just for a little while, pup,” Tim coos, gently prying him from his legs and crouching down to eye-level. “We can play right after, okay?”
Another minute of soft coaxing and Dami is reluctantly allowing Alfred to guide him upstairs – his lingering disagreement displayed in his simultaneously emphatic and adorable stomps.
With the obvious topic of conversation now absent, Bruce takes a seat at the dining table, looking, per usual, completely unreadable.
Already feeling uneasy, neither Tim nor Jason leave the unspoken invitation in the air for long, quickly taking a seat and staring at him with expectant eyes – Tim’s probing, Jason’s impatient.
“What do you want?” Jason snaps, still instinctively testy with Bruce despite their steadily healing relationship.
“It’s… about Damian.”
“Uh huh.” (Patience Meter: 63%)
“He seems to be acclimating well…”
“Uh huh.” (Patience Meter: 41%)
“And it’s great to see how much he’s opened up over the past few weeks.”
“Uh huh.” (Patience Meter: 15%)
“I know you’ve been caught between recovering and planning and everything else…”
“Uh huh.” (Patience Meter: 4%)
“Of course, considering the situation, there’s a lot of work to do, not just on your part, but on our end as well. But–”
“B, get to the fucking point.”
Being directly rude and brash to Bruce usually earns Jason a smack or scolding from his mate but this time he’s left unscathed, the frustration wafting from Tim matching his.
Apparently, that’s the last push Bruce needs to detonate the atomic warhead he has in his back pocket.
“I know that Damian is my son…”
To say ‘you could hear a pin drop’ would be the understatement of the century.
The room is dead silent.
Yes, dead.
Deceased, departed, perished, demised, six feet under, as a doornail.
The brief pause Bruce takes before continuing feels like a lifetime. A long, suffocating, anxiety-inducing, guilt-ridden, lifetime.
“…but I am, by no means, his father.”
The anger, defensiveness, and possessiveness building within the two of them instantly vanishes, replaced by genuine surprise and welcome relief.
“It’s a complicated situation, but it’s not something we can’t navigate.” Bruce drags a hand down his face, his exhaustion evident. “You’re young, still in your teens, and the thought of raising Damian is probably just as scary as it is exciting, but you two are his parents. Period. No matter what you decide, you’ll have my full support and I’ll always be here for you.”
As he struggles to regulate the sudden emotional whiplash, Tim feels Jason grab his hand under the table, neither of them quite able to look Bruce in the eye.
“How… How long have you known?” Tim finally asks, quiet and small.
“Since the warehouse. I felt compelled to have this discussion with you two after receiving a… package containing Damian’s legal documents yesterday,” Bruce explains carefully.
Jason’s eyes narrow in suspicion, “Package from who?”
The answer is made evident in Bruce’s hesitation.
“She’s done terrible things, and I am not excusing her actions, but–”
“B, I don’t want her anywhere near him,” Tim demands, his voice dangerously low. Jason remains silent beside him, positively seething at the thought of Talia being connected to them in any way.
“I can guarantee she will not be involved in Damian’s life. Not now, not ever,” Bruce promises, his eyes sharp and serious. “I have vetted the package for safety, but I have not examined the details of its contents, that is for your eyes only. She has no intention of ever returning, nor will I allow her to… in any capacity.”
Though the idea of Talia Al Ghul freely wandering about in the world is extremely upsetting, they have no choice but to trust Bruce’s word for the time being.
Their brooding silence communicates their begrudging agreement, and Bruce takes it as his cue to move on.
“As for you two, we'll continue to monitor the situation and make decisions when the time comes. I think it’d be wise for you three to remain here at the manor for a while longer until you fully recover and get your bearings.”
Tim and Jason exchange a brief glance.
“About that…”
From an outsider’s perspective, the amount of time Cass spends wandering around the toy store on the fifth floor of the Gotham City Mall is a bit strange, but she couldn’t care less considering her beloved nephew’s happiness is at stake.
For a total of forty-seven minutes, she swings back and forth between potential gifts, a pendulum stuck in perpetual motion.
Were it not for the familiar man she spots browsing the collection of toys on the other end of the sports aisle, she would have been there for days.
“Cass?” Dick calls, his tone caught between hesitant and excited.
Ignoring every bone in her body telling her not to engage, Cass turns her head, causing Dick’s hesitation to evolve into confidence and familiarity.
“Cass! No way, what are you doing here?”
“…Nothing,” she lies, subtly averting her eyes.
As she welcomes his signature big brother bear hug, she attempts to discreetly hide the wooden train set behind her back.
Alas, it’s too late.
Upon releasing her, Dick immediately spots the incriminating evidence and realization dawns on him like the sun in the east.
Not a single subsequent word is exchanged as he sprints back to the other end of the aisle, picks out the scooter he’d been inspecting, and books it to the checkout line.
Cass isn’t far behind, speeding her way to the other open line.
“He’s gonna like mine better, you know,” Dick goads from her left.
Foot tapping. Grin a bit too forced. Running hands through hair. Slightly flushed.
He’s nervous.
She’s got this in the bag.
“Good luck,” she returns with a lethal smirk, grabbing the bag from the cashier with a hurried ‘Thank you’ and hustling toward the West End.
Tim and Jason’s place isn’t far from the mall, but it feels like an eternity as she frantically navigates the busy streets of downtown Gotham while cradling her precious gift.
She arrives in eleven minutes, eighteen seconds, and four milliseconds – a full three minutes faster than the GPS – and allows herself two full deep breaths before politely ringing the doorbell.
“Hey, Cass,” Jason greets as he opens the door, his nonchalant tone directly contradicting his delighted expression.
“Hello,” she offers, glancing over her shoulder, “can I come in?”
The moment Jason steps aside with a nod that says ‘Of course’, she runs past him in search of her favorite person in the entire world.
“Dami?” she calls.
An excited squeal precedes the pup’s arrival.
“Auntie Cass! Auntie Cass!” he shrieks, the soft patter of his feet on the wooden floor sending her heart to the moon.
At last, Damian appears from the hallway. The sight of him drowning in one of Tim’s old hoodies causes her heart to take off from the moon and soar its way past Jupiter.
“Hi, cutie,” she coos, hugging him tight when he jumps into her arms. “I missed you.”
Despite the fact that they’d last seen each other only three days prior, Damian returns the sentiment.
“I missed you too,” he laughs, playfully pinching and pulling her cheeks in the same way she habitually does to him.
“I brought you something,” she says, suddenly nervous as she sets him down.
Damian’s eyes shimmer with anticipation as she carefully begins to pull the medium-sized box from the comically large paper bag the cashier had insisted on giving her.
She’s one foot from the finish line when the Dick bursts through the front door completely drenched in sweat.
“Where’s Dami?!” he cries as he frantically scans the room.
Unfortunately, his grand entrance successfully drags the pup’s attention away from Cass.
“I am right here!” Damian shouts, giggling at his silly uncle.
“Hey, bud!” Dick grins, his joy uncontained. “You won’t guess what I brought.”
Before Dick can beat her to the punch, Cass whips out the train set and holds it out to the sweet pup.
“It is a train set. We can make them go choo choo like Thomas the Tank Engine,” she announces, her competitive determination softening into tender endearment at his wide eyes.
Bent upon being Damian’s favorite, Dick quickly reveals his gift: a green scooter with light-up wheels and squishy gel handles.
“You can ride it when we go to the park, isn’t that exciting?” Dick explains, beaming at just the thought of hanging out with his nephew.
“Look cutie, this one has a big bridge too,” Cass counters.
Dick doesn’t budge, “Can’t forget the helmet, safety first!”
Overwhelmed, Damian’s head snaps back and forth between them like he’s watching the world’s pettiest tennis match. His attempts to speak come out as a string of frenzied babbles as he struggles to decide where to turn his attention to, who to thank first, and how to manage his big emotions with his small body.
Finally, Jason puts an end to their shenanigans by smacking Dick – who immediately files a complaint – upside the head.
“What the hel– heck, Jason?! Why didn't you hit Cass?”
“Because she’d put me in an iron lung in four seconds. Stop stressing Dami out, idiots,” Jason lightly scolds, taking a seat on the floor and pulling the overexcited pup into his lap.
They sit quietly for a while to allow Damian to settle down, his small hands curious as he handles the toys with care.
“Baba, it is blue like Thomas!”
“That it is, kiddo,” Jason laughs, deep and comforting, “and that one's green like Percy.”
As the pup makes his way through the train set, Tim emerges from the steamy bathroom, having run a bath (of the bubble kind) for the pup, and plops himself beside Jason.
“So, who won?” he asks, not bothering to mask his shit-eating grin.
He’s well aware of their ongoing competition and, unlike Jason, has no issues with kicking back and letting them hash it out with a bag of popcorn and a slushie in hand. In all fairness, it’s part of his duty as the youngest (excluding Damian) to boldly provoke them at every turn, so he’s really just doing his job.
“Me,” Dick and Cass say in unison, reigniting their debate.
While Cass argues that she has known the pup longer, therefore she’s his favorite and Dick counters with an extremely mature ‘Nuh uh!’, Jason hands the toddler in question to Tim and stands to start dinner, his heavy sigh and rolled eyes indicative of how ‘over it’ he truly is regarding his sometimes-annoying, mostly-lovable siblings.
Like always, they end in a stalemate, and before Damian is able to crown a winner, he’s whisked away by Tim for bathtime, leaving the two eldest to watch reality television and childishly kick each other from opposite ends of the couch.
Finally, after what seems like days, Damian returns, now squeaky clean and ready for action.
While spending time with the pup is a delight for both Cass and Dick, it also serves as a way to treat his separation anxiety, giving him opportunities to be away from his parents for a bit, and after a few minutes of sitting with them, Tim quietly leaves to join Jason in the kitchen.
With their apartment being a more open concept layout, they’re still visible from the living room floor, but just the act of leaving Damian alone has helped immensely in easing his anxiety.
“Do you want to try your new scooter?” she suggests, throwing a bone to her competition.
At Damian’s enthusiastic nod, Dick takes the helm and Cass simply sits back and quietly enjoys her time with her family. While she listens to Dick carefully explain the importance of helmets, she finds her eyes drifting to the kitchen.
Aside from playing and laughing and resting with Damian, these visits also allow her to witness the love shared between Tim and Jason.
As cliche as it sounds, the two of them are truly and wholly soulmates.
It shows in the way Jason pulls Tim out of his dissociative spells of grief with soft kisses and sweet words, the way Tim soothes Jason’s pain with tender massages, the way they’re always on the same wavelength, as if connected by some invisible string.
With Jason’s easy ‘I love you’s and smothering hugs and honest laughter, with Tim’s fleeting touches and soft whispers and subtle smiles.
In every aspect of their being, it shows.
Jason loves loudly, Tim loves quietly, and it is a beautiful sight to behold.