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Who: Dem Wayne Boys (Tim Drake and Dick Grayson)
What: Tim needs let off some pressure before he pops. Dick has a pin.
Where: Tim's room moving to the highest balcony available.
When: Immediately after the Council.
Warnings/Notes: Discussions of sexuality in ways that will not always be healthy.

At the first sign of movement towards the doors, Tim left the Council. He thought about staying until the end, to watch who leaves with who and pay attention to any last minute conversations, but guaranteed privacy is hard to come by, and he wants to check his bandages and see how well the heal he did earlier today has taken.

Without being able to close the windows to the outside walkways, he wants to do it when everyone else is busy. Hence ghosting the party so he could get back to his room and poke at his side, frowning that the color doesn't look as good as he would expect it to, for how exhausted trying to use his healing power on it made him. It's still dark pink, although it's now healed over enough that he doesn't have to worry about re-opening it. He's already been feeling the difference the past few days; it's easier and easier to move normally. Now, touching his side doesn't set off any sharp pains.

Tim drops his shirt back down. The miruvor has him feeling good enough to try a second heal today, but he'll wait until he's about to sleep in the wee hours. It's not late enough to assume that no one's going to come to rip apart what was said at the meeting today. Tim's money is on Dick, or Elle.

For now, he just stretches out on the bed and starts running through the meeting again in his head, trying to commit certain phrases to permanent memory.

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Dick looks at him, raising an eyebrow. Because he really doesn't quite believe that Tim's been easier on himself lately.

“I’m not trying to do an entire investigation on my own anymore while fighting with all of you, so that helps. I’m mostly living at the Manor again, and just being in the same room as Alfred is usually enough to guilt me into a slightly better day.” Whether it’s getting an extra 30 minutes of sleep or making a better food choice, the very presence of Alfred carries this feeling that he knows exactly what they are trying to pull and, as ever, approves of the ends but not the precise means. So Tim will do things like eat breakfast on the way to bed, to earn at least some approval for getting home four hours before he has to be up.

Tim starts listing things that he thinks amount to more of a healthy daily life. “There’s usually at least two people have a rough idea of where I am, and I think it’s been at least a month since I’ve gone 24 hours without contacting anyone. And I’m not changing any of that. I’m working on a few long-term ideas that need Tim Wayne to be in Gotham. No more disappearing for weeks.”

It's still not exactly a HEALTHY daily life. Dick's been keeping tabs on Tim as much as he can, so he knows that Tim has been running himself into the ground. So this is at least a start.

So he sighs, shaking his head. "All right, all right. Conceded. It's at least better than it was." Then he tightens his arm on Tim's shoulders. "Alfred would be proud of you, you know. I'm proud of you, too."

He hasn't really acknowledged what Tim said earlier. While not reacting was right in the moment, not letting Tim know this would be a terrible oversight on his part.

It is yards better than Tim was doing.

(Sure, he’s omitting the leg braces and forearm crutches forcing him to stay more visibly in Gotham to play out his recovery, but the reason doesn’t matter.)

“I won’t let get that bad again.” Because he’s going to prevent the underlying factors and earn them being proud of him. “I just… couldn’t be what I needed and what everyone else wanted.”

A pause. “I’m still having trouble with that.”

"Yeah. That happens to all of us, honestly. It's a delicate balancing act at the best of times and...well, recently hasn't been the best of times." Dick can admit that. It hasn't been great for either of them. "I'd say it gets easier with experience, but I'm not sure if it does."

“If it matters, I just want you to be happy, too. Even if it means putting up with Damian.” Tim doesn’t even get sarcastic about it. “I know everyone leans on you too much.”

"It always matters." And there's a smile in Dick's voice, because Tim's not actually looking at him at the moment. "And...I think that's just the curse of being the oldest. You're always the one going there first or has been there first. So people lean on you because they know you get it." He leans his head back, looking up. "I don't mind it. But...I'll be honest, I felt a lot of relief when you told me Bruce was back."

Even if he doesn't give up being Batman, just having Bruce THERE makes things so much easier.

The pressure of being Batman shouldn’t have fallen on Dick, and yet it was always going to fall on him.

“I know. You don’t have to admit that. He’s an outsized part of our lives, and yours in particular for, what, 15 years now?” Tim’s closer friends don’t have traditional father-child relationships to compare with, but Tim doesn’t really need examples to land the point. Father, mentor, boss in a way. They built themselves and their lives with him in mind - even when they’re estranged, they still consider his reaction. “He’s your net. Or maybe he’s the whole circus tent, because he gives us all cover.”

Dick did try to leave Batman behind. Gotham wouldn't allow it. It had to fall on somebody, and he wouldn't let it fall on his brothers.

"Closer to twenty," Dick admits after a moment of doing the math. And breathing through a moment of old grief. "But you're right. He's such a big part of our lives and none of us were ready when we lost him. We're lucky." Again. They always manage to get lucky about this. "Even now, I play a lot of 'what would Bruce do' when I'm considering an action."

“I do that too,” Tim admits with a grin. “It usually works out pretty well. If I want things to be more chaotic, I ask myself what would Dick do? But now that I know you ask yourself what would Bruce do, maybe I’ll just cut out the middleman.”

"I mostly only do it AS Batman." But it's good to see Tim grin like that, which is why Tim gets his hair ruffled.

Really, it's the only reason. "It's...different. There's always slightly different rules in the uniform." He hasn't had time to make the adjustments needed to make Batman his own. Not yet, at least.

Ahh, more positive reinforcement via hair ruffling. Tim’s going to look like he just crawled out of bed by the time they’re done talking.

It’s too bad that Tim’s only going to apply the reinforcement, without the distinction of needing different rules in the uniform. That works for Dick, because Dick is the real persona and Batman is the persona. For Bruce, it’s the reverse. But Tim’s trying to be someone he’s not in his daily life, too. Obviously, he can ask what would Bruce do all the time. “It’s not. Or it doesn’t have to be - they can your rules now.”

A beat. “But I’m still asking myself what would Bruce do.”

Edited 2022-03-23 22:57 (UTC)

Dick laughs heartily, shaking his head. "Fine, fine. Keep asking what Bruce would do. I suppose I can't blame you." After all, he had already admitted he did it. "And it doesn't feel like mine yet. I'm still working on it. I just had to have Alfred redo the cape because I can barely move with all the weight."

At least partly because he just doesn't use a cape anymore and hasn't for years. But Bruce doesn't do the moves that Dick does, doesn't need the dexterity that Dick relies on. So...adjustments. Still.

“I finally had him redo the Red Robin suit. It’s literally a lot lighter now - replaced the letter with synthetics and carbon fiber.” Hnh. Was Dick aware that that suit wasn’t bulletproof? Probably, he has eyes.

It’s amazing Tim got anything done with a 20 pound cape on. Who needs leg day when your gear weights over forty pounds? “We should probably ask Alfred to teach us his fabrication tricks.”

It had definitely originally been made with style rather than use in mind. Or made to be worn by somebody who was bulletproof. Dick didn't know. Still, he blows out a sigh of relief. "I am glad to hear that.

"And we absolutely should. I mean, I have some idea, but not enough to keep us afloat." Should the worst come to pass. Like them losing Alfred as well.

After a moment, Dick shakes his head and starts moving to stand up. "How are you feeling? Really."

Edited 2022-04-03 19:04 (UTC)

Tim gets to his feet as well, signalling that he too is ready to go back.

Dick just reels the subject back so easily to feelings, and everything Tim has done - every subtle steer of the conversation, teasing topics and jumping on anything else Dick brought up. Complete waste of time, because he hasn’t moved them an inch. “I’m really fine. I’m going to wait it out and see if everything doesn’t go back to normal on its own. If it doesn’t, well… I’ll figure out what to do with the new normal.”

That’s not what Dick wants to hear. Tim knows it’s not what Dick would do. “I’m not going to talk to Kon. I need to put distance there, because I’m not ready to mess that up more.”

Dick listens, nodding, because...that does answer a lot of it. "And physically?"

He's definitely leading to something, after all.

But the question is, to what. Tim’s better judgment says to underplay how well he’s healing, as he’s cheated it with the use of powers, but his independence says to show off. “I’m fine. In another week, I should be ready to resume regular workouts. Maybe even some sparring. The Elves are very good healers.”

Oh, Dick's fully been expecting him to try using his own healing on himself. It's what Dick would do, after all. So it's not a surprise that Tim is hedging.

Dick sits back against the balcony railing again. "So. Definitely not feeling well enough for a swing? We could tandem, if you're up to it."

After all. When will Tim ever get a chance again to say he swung over Rivendell?

Oh, there are some experiences Tim will wreck his neck for. He looks over the railing and then towards the vines.

“Tandem, I think. I’ll try to take my own weight, but treat it like I can’t?”

Pride and stubbornness will only get him so far. If he tried to swing out over the ravine and couldn’t handle it, Dick doesn’t have the gear needed to save him. “I’m not doing the Tarzan yell.”

Dick laughs, grinning at Tim. "Wouldn't be the first time I've been loud enough for two." He swings his legs over the railing, reaching for one of the vines. "But. I'll be kind and won't shout your ears out."

And it's easier to calculate for Tim's weight. They've worked together for so long at this point, it's almost second nature to figure out what will hold them both. Vines that he's previously used are discarded immediately because they may have weaknesses from being used, especially if he already tandemed with them. Which means finding one is harder, but not impossible.

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