#dick and tim

[batbux]

They're BROTHERS your honor

[bigdvmnhero]

relationships: dick & tim

word count: 6,019

summary:

“I—” Tim recalibrated. Desperately, he scanned Dick’s face—his features blurred over, a wall of nothing; Tim chipped away: “You were a kid, who’ll blame a kid? They won’t hurt anyone again. If you want to, to, to talk to anyone—but it was a long time ago, you’re Nightwing now—”

Tuesday morning: a video was uploaded to one of the deep web black markets. The footage, shot on those grainy vintage camcorders. But Tim knew that boy in the thumbnail; his eyes had memorized him, the heft and shape and dazzle of him, imprinting like an afterimage.

Or: a brother is a witness; there's your tragedy.

::

The apartment had that new-in-town smell: mothballs and desperation. Boxes upon boxes were strewn on the floor. One of them had a dirty plate forgotten on top of it. Old pad thai grease. Armed to the teeth in his full Robin regalia, Tim felt vaguely underdressed in Dick’s kitchen—like there was a speech to do, and he was already forgetting the words.

“Did I lose you again?” Dick said, through a mouthful of his second demolished mango. He was eating them fatherless-style. Dick had been talking about—insurance, maybe. “What’s up?”

Across him, Tim straightened. “Nothing, just.” Mortified, thinking about how I almost spritzed myself with cologne before coming here. What was this, prom? Tim just needed this to go better than last time, was all.

Last time: Tim’s absolute trashfire of a Bludhaven visit; Dick’s rictus of a smile; Dick’s face going bloodless in the half-dark as Tim mentioned Bruce’s adoption offer, absolute god-tier cringe; why’d he do that? It was the same look Dick wore, that first time Tim brandished the original Robin suit from its glass case. Of course Dick disappeared then, all dark and brooding into the night, seeyanara, or never; Tim never could stomach a Never.

He wanted to tell Dick he was working hard to learn it, too—the Bat’s art of Sheer Presence. The way its silhouette inspired awe, stillness. That lately Dick spooked easy, like an animal trying not to be seen. That on nights Tim was almost catatonic with grief, his first half-formed thought was, I want my brother.

Tim said, “It’s not every day you eat scrambled mangoes in Richard Grayson’s apartment.”

“Ever since I saw one of our knife-throwers eat it like this, I always wanted to try it.” Dick picked up a comically large knife and bisected the mango, carving the hairy seed out, before scraping its insides silly. He handed one of the halves to Tim, anointing it with a too-big spoon. Where was this man’s cutlery? “It’s supposed to look like a bowl, then you can walk around eating like that. Neat, huh?”

“Guess so.” Tim accepted Dick’s mango concoction with a smile. Maybe a spoonful, to be polite. Watch and weep, Alfred. “You know, I always wanted to try eating a mango like an apple.”

“Well, we got two left,” Dick snorted, digging into the plastic bag. “Make your dreams come true?”

Do, please. Truth was, Tim daydreamed of it often—no capes, no mission, the solace of a brother only a nightmare-city away, and his quiet balcony. If Tim was lucky, a heart-to-heart. Namely, about the No Good, Very Bad Year he was having.

Same one he was sure Dick was going through now, if only Dick deigned to tell him anything.

“Let’s try it together,” Tim said, conspiratory. “Skin and everything. Sprinkle some seasoning. Alfred would call it… positively diabolical.”

“Oh, I’d move heaven and earth to see that look on that man’s face again.” Dick tipped the mango-bowl into his mouth, then licked his lips with sticky satisfaction. “God. This stuff is top-shelf. Which sunny, tropical island did you pick them from, Tim—the Philippines?”

“Just a freebie. From a grateful citizen.”

Wow, and he was starting to lie to Dick the way he lied to Bruce: with alarmingly little remorse!

The truth: Tim had seen the streetcam footage. Dick Grayson liked to linger longer than normal by that market stall on Hammerstone; stuff was always overpriced, but he stayed for the small talk, exchanging recipes and turning over spotted fruit, face soft with a small secret joy until some goon on busted tires screeched by, or the disembodied voice in his comm summoned him back into the fold—exit Richard Grayson, bereft of mangoes.

“A freebie, huh?” Dick said.

Tim shrugged. “Stopped a mugging on my way here.”

“‘Course you did.”

Tim looked up to see a secret smile on Dick’s face, the dimple deepening. Tim ducked his head—it was always intense when Dick did that, holding your eyes to wait for his words to land. When Dick pushed himself away from the table, Tim was glad to look without being seen.

The scrape on Dick’s elbow matched Batman’s data: Nightwing smashed himself free from a plexiglass wall when it came down on him; there was that wispy patch of petrified-looking hair near his left ear where the flames nearly singed his scalp off. Take a few drunk accidental teenage arsons, a rice cooker, and a wall outlet that hadn’t been maintained since the 80s, and you get a nice, toasty residential building that collapsed in forty minutes. With their training, Nightwing should’ve been in and out in five, tops.

Dick coughed as he groped inside the cupboard. Lung irritation, Tim noted. Possible airway inflammation. Shoddy haircut. Dick must’ve tried to trim the charred split ends. If Tim was there. If Tim had covered his blind spot. If Tim was someone Dick could count on from time to time, maybe.

Maybe.

If, if, if.

“Sorry, haven’t stocked the fridge yet,” Dick said. “Water fine?”

“Yep,” Tim says, popping the P, and looked at the carpet the moment Dick’s stagelight-eyes turned his way. His gaze had scanned Tim with that same cataloging sweep earlier. If Dick noticed the weight of Tim’s Mission, paling him like some kind of sepsis, he said nothing. Tim knew what Dick was trying to do. This polite distance, not quite cold, not quite warm, was a dead sea any man could drown in. Bruce currently was. Dick intended to leave Tim here too, in the rolling distance, where no eyes could follow. Fat fucking chance.

Watch me on the trapeze, Tim, said Dick from the memory; staring from a boy’s impish face; those torch-bright eyes, holding his frightened ones. I’m going to do my act—’specially for you. And Tim had watched. And Tim had never stopped, how could he ever stop?

“So, this friendly visit…” Dick slid him a chipped mug of water. “B asked you to check in, or is this gonna be a regular thing from now?”

“Naw, I was just,” Tim waved vaguely. “around.”

“And you got free mangoes.”

Tim sipped. “Thought I’d share my spoils of war.”

The cold hard truth: Tim needed a reason to see his brother now. A work reason. No one wasted Nightwing’s time. While dodging stilted dinners at the manor and Bruce’s guilt-marred face, Tim had spent the better part of his days turning the adoption offer in his head, plugging a fake uncle into his stage-life, not calling Dick, and tracking transactions in the deep web black markets. He had a lead to a CP ring tied to Gotham’s cluster of orphanages—just more children slipping through Her fingers, with no one to come looking. But Tim was looking now. Ten years too late, maybe, but looking all the same.

Bless Barbara and her detailed surveillance notes. He’d set up the alert as instructed and lost himself in the Styx waters of rote work, wading deep, the world submerged into the dull clack of fingers on a keyboard.

Tuesday morning, a new video was uploaded—the price tag: half a million in crypto.

The preview was fifteen seconds long. The footage, cast in near-darkness, had grain matching those recorded on a point-and-shoot that hadn’t been in the market for at least eight years. JVC VHS-C Camcorder, that was how old it was. But Tim knew that figure in the thumbnail. Canary-yellow cape, bloodied knees and pixie boots. A costume for someone ten apples tall.

Only one Robin was fighting against the affliction that was Gotham in single digits. And Tim would know him; his eyes had memorized him, the heft and shape and dazzle of him, imprinting like an afterimage.

Watch me on the trapeze, Tim.

“Get a visual,” was all Batman said, when he called an hour before. This was a case he didn’t think Batman was even supposed to know about, but Tim didn’t press; that voice, floundering in the undercurrent, was all Bruce. “I’ll take care of things here.”

Lung irritation, Tim thought. Grainy footage. Bruce’s cryptic-as-hell phone call. Charred split ends. Nightwing’s casual suicidal patrols? Yeah, Tim was going to dry-heave across Dick’s apartment floor; the inside of his mouth was all sour, like something gone bad overnight. Dick knew about the leak, but not that Batman and his underperforming Robin were on the case, too. Tim was gonna have to do it again—like his first day at the Cave, digging up the memory of Dick’s ghosts, not letting the damn dead stay dead.

Dick threw a hand towel at Tim’s face with a laugh. “Wipe your mouth, Timmy.”

Nicknames, huh.

If Dick hated him, he was hiding it well. Like a child, Tim obediently cleaned the pulp from his mouth. Then, like a coward: “Could I—bathroom?”

read the rest on ao3

[ryemiffie]

More of me and my bro as bat bros incorrect quotes:

Dick, accidentally clicking the wrong thing on the bat computer: Oh wait, shit, I didn't want you.

Tim, standing ominously behind him: That's what Bruce said when I became Robin.

Dick:

Tim:

Dick: Tim, noo..

[greenapplebling]

(kid)Tim: *suddenly feeling an impulse to do something*

Tim, looking at Dick: ...

Dick, distracted with his phone: ... Tim? What-

Tim, with his teeth attached to Dick's arm:

Dick:

Tim:

Dick: That's not how you bite someone

[mocking-the-bird]

I returned to drawing Tiny Tim because I am a weak human being controlled by dopamine release

I think I'll make part two with Jason and Bruce, and I hope you want that too :p

[scarareg]

There is something so sweet,tender and meaningful about Tim being first and foremost a Dick Grayson fan. Not a Robin fan. Not a Nightwing fan. Just Dick, and after all they went through that never changed

[umbrellacam]

ok sorry I just have to yell about this real quick -

Nightwing (Vol. 2) #139 - The Resurrection of Ra's al Ghul, part 6 Dick: "I let you make the choice for yourself...because I knew you'd make the right one."

Dick didn't know shit, lmao!! "Because I knew you'd make the right one" my ass lol.

Let's rewind two minutes shall we:

Dick: "Tim... Listen... There are no easy answers... But you have the right to make the choice for yourself." || Dick (internal narration): "No-win. If I stop him, I don't trust him. If he goes through with it, I shouldn't have trusted him. C'mon, Tim..."

He doesn't know what choice Tim is going to make, whether his grief will overcome him and he'll take the Lazarus water or not, and has in fact been physically fighting Tim this entire issue to stop him by force. But ultimately he knows it's Tim's right to choose for himself, and decides to hope, and have faith in his brother.

And he has that faith rewarded, and reaffirms it afterward, despite the fact that he wasn't sure.

And paralleling that moment of "yes of course I knew you had it":

Red Robin (2009) #12 Dick: "How'd you know? How did you know I'd be there to save you?" || Tim: "You're my brother, Dick. You'll always be there for me."

TIM DIDN'T KNOW SHIIIIIIIIT HGKLJDKFLSD

At least not consciously! Being caught by Dick is certainly not something he planned for, as he seems to be trying to imply.

Again, rewind:

Tim (internal narration): "I did it. I saved the people he loved. I saved everything he worked so hard to build. No compromises. He won't say anything, he never does. But I know. I know that Bruce will be proud of me. Not a bad day." || Tim: (in the midst of pASSING TF OUT) || Dick: (swoops in and catches him)

Tim may not have actually known that Dick would be there. But that catch... A falling Tim being caught by Dick is a motif that occurs over and over and over across the years of their relationship. Why do I feel like there's a part of Tim, faint as he faded out, and much stronger when he woke up, that went, "Oh, it's Dick - of course if it was anyone, I knew it would be Dick"?

After their conflicts and miscommunications in this arc, after Tim sweeping back into town and explaining not a single thing as he races to thwart Ra's, despite Dick's frustrated pleas, after cutting Dick off with a simple, "Batman...trust me," and Dick's responding, "Of course"....

Tim feeling like he knew, even if he didn't know, or plan, or expect. Because that's his brother. And choosing to express that trust, after Dick chose to trust him...

Just. Dick and Tim. Verbally reaffirming their faith in each other, even after in-the-moment doubts. BROTHERS. My emotions.

[badghostwriter]

Dick stared at the ceiling fan. It spun, slowly but surely turning, ever ignorant of the world around it. It spun, regardless of the ribbon tied on the third blade, regardless of the breeze blowing in the window, regardless of the winter chill almost making his breath visible. The ceiling fan spun and the world spun and Dick couldn’t comprehend it.

The front door opened. Footsteps pattered into the hallway, past the kitchen and into the living room where he was laying on the floor and staring at the ceiling fan. The footsteps stopped for just a minute, before walking over to the window and sliding it shut. The lock clicked into place and a hand reached up to turn off the fan. Dick waited until it ceased any and all motion before tearing his eyes away from it.

“Have you eaten?” Tim asked.

Dick pried his mouth open, ignoring the awful taste that spoke of dehydration, “I…”

Tim waited a minute before accepting that was all he would get in response. He nodded, turned around and walked out of view. Dick watched him go with a pit in his stomach. A fourteen year old shouldn’t have to do the things him and Bruce made Tim do. Tim was too good. Too young. Too innocent. Except he wasn’t innocent because Bruce was breaking him and Dick was letting him and they were poisonous vines, weaving their way into Tim’s life, sucking the life out of him. Just like they did with Barbara. Just like they did with Jason. God, Jason. His baby brother, who was scared and suffering and died, all without Dick knowing.

“Dick,” Tim nudged him with a foot. Dick blinked, registering the water bottle and microwaved food in Tim’s hands. When had he had time to do that? Dick blinked again and he was sitting on the couch, food on his lap and opened water bottle in his hand.

Tim handed him the lid and a fork. “Drink and eat.”

Dick mechanically took a bite. Then another. Then a sip of water. He turned to look at Tim. His eyes were clouded and bruised, with his lip sporting a bloody cut that made Dick want to cry.

“Bruce?” Dick asked, voice raspy.

“Locked in the cave.”

Dick hummed, leaning over to bump his shoulder against Tim’s. He pressed his lips into the side of Tim’s head in the mockery of a kiss, trying not to remember doing the same thing to another little brother.

“Thank you. I’m sorry.”

Tim ducked a little to slide into place perfectly cuddled up against Dick’s side. “‘S okay. It’s always hard on the anniversary.”

Dick’s eyes watered. “It’s not okay, baby bird. You shouldn’t be…” looking after two grown men just because they can’t get their crap together.

“I’m sorry,” Dick said again.

Tim pressed closer. “Okay.”

Dick closed his eyes and thought absolutely nothing was okay.

[razzledazzle0]

cryptid

HC, Tim ''haunts'' the kitchen at night, we know he doesn't get any sleep so he usually gets up and grabs a snack, he doesn't care if the lights are on or not.

that creates some problems and fears with the others..

----------

Dick:Walks into the kitchen because he heard a noise

tim: with the most cryptid blue eyes you'll ever see that glow in the dark

dick: AH- JESUS CHRIST-

dick: runs out screaming there's something in the house, waking everyone up in the process

Tim: confused, just holding a bag of Doritos a confused look on his face as he makes it back to his room.

[youroriginalsublimecupcakestuff]

Damian, holding Tim by the shirt: Tell me one good reason why I shouldn’t end you where you stand!

Tim, visibly afraid: U-uh… dick told me to have a good day!!

Damian, lowering his fist: You make a good point…

[asongofstarkandtargaryen]

Dick cooking for Tim:

Dick teaching Cass how to make pancakes:

He's a great big bro!!

[cleromancy]

the fact that tim was protective of dick from literally day one makes me feel so crazy. that night at the circus this little toddler had to be restrained from leaping out of his seat to try and save dick from batman until he realized batman was there to help. on his very first outing in the robin costume, hes frantically going through the rubble thinking "i encouraged dick to come back, if anything happened to him bc of me--" and like he does not ever stop being protective of dick. like. this does not change. like he finds out dick and helena had a thing and more or less tells dick hes too sensitive for her like... 😭 timothy. timothy!!!!

[kazbrekkeriselite]

Dick: Dammit, Jason! Jason: What?! It wasn’t me! Dick: Sorry, force of habit. Dammit, Tim! Tim: Not me either. Dick: Oh...Then who set the house on fire? Damian: *whistles*

[ryemiffie]

More things from my day as batfam incorrect quotes:

Dick: You wanna know what I've never been able to wrap my head around?

Tim: Long poles?

Dick: The fact that- ..what?

Tim: I just feel like a head would be too thick and clonky to really get all the way up and around it if it's like a super tall pole, heads ain't flexible like that.

Dick: How does your head go to places like this?

Tim: I just explained that is not possible.

Dick: No, I meant like your train of thought.

Tim: Oh my thought process isn't a train, it's actually the 1998 batmobile.

Dick: Of course it is.

Tim: What's your vehicle of thought?

Dick: Why would I have an answer to that?

Tim: Come on, you've thought about it, I know you have.

Dick: ...

Dick: The original turtle van from the 1987 tmnt cartoon.

Tim: I knew it.

[silverwhittlingknife]

dick & tim, first meeting in lonely place of dying

[scintillyyy]

wait. people do realize that tim took one of dick's old robin suits that was on display, not the jason one. right.

in year three batman #436, the pelude to a lonely place of dying, written by the man who wrote a lonely palce of dying, dick specifically goes into the batcave trophy and sees that it's been removed of any trace of jason:

(his bedroom has also been cleared out but this is about the trophy room in particular)

as it is, the jason case *does not yet exist* at this point in time & in his grief bruce has removed all traces of jason, leaving only dick's trophies.

when dick brings tim down to the batcave in batman #441, he stands in front of a case that has a robin costume, yes. this is in the trophy room, which was previously established as having no trace of jason at his time. the fact that dick stands in front of it to talk about how he can't go back to being robin with his reflection shown as him wearing the costume also implies this was a costume of dick's specifically.

dick is in trophy room, discussing how he can't return to being robin, thinking about the good old days surrounded by his past trophies he got with bruce. this is clearly cataloged to be an old uniform of his, especially given he's reflected to be wearing this specific one.

and then in the new titans #61, tim specifically says he got the costume from the case in the *trophy* room.

now you can argue that suit in a case = jason, especially given dick's anger, but this is specifically a suit in a trophy room case in. trophy room that is established as not currently contain any jason memorabilia & i was definitely implied to be dick's costume in particular. and ik dick & jason's costumes were basically the same but tim's robin costume in alpod also happens to be a dead on match dick's very first original robin costume in year three, the prelude story (batmam #437).

and *that* costume is far more likely to be in amongst dick's trophies. so no, tim didn't steal the costume of a dead kid from the memorial case. he did steal dick's very first original costume which was likely in a case on display with the rest of dick's adventure trophies, which would also probably give a reason for dick to be a little peeved.

and listen, retcons aside putting a memorial case in there (retcons aside bruce has destroyed the costume jason actually died in), it still doesn't make sense to have tim wearing a costume other than one of dick's because the whole point of tim's origin is wrapped up in dick's. tim becoming robin is linked to that night in the circus, tim's first robin costume has to be a costume that dick specifically wore. it's in the taking the picture together, janet telling tim he could be just like dick someday, in dick bringing tim down to look at his old robin costume while he says he can't go back to those times, looking at a reflection of him wearing the costume.