Tim Drake oneshots

Family matters

Fic: "Family Matters"

The grand dining room of Wayne Manor had never felt quite so tense. The long oak table, usually the site of lively banter or comfortable silence, was now the battlefield for something much heavier. The Bat-family sat around it—Dick, Jason, Barbara, Stephanie, Duke, Damian, and Alfred—each one looking between Tim and Bruce as the two squared off in a heated argument.

Tim’s eyes were blazing with frustration, standing with his hands planted on the table. Bruce, sitting across from him, wore his usual stoic mask, but there was a tightness around his eyes that only someone who knew him well could recognize.

"Bruce, would you quit hovering?" Tim snapped, his voice cutting through the air. "I know what I’m doing! I can take care of myself."

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, his deep voice calm but firm. "Tim, you’re 17. It’s still my job to parent you."

The tension in the room spiked as Tim’s face twisted into something between disbelief and anger. "Parent me? Parent me? I’ve been doing this for years now, Bruce. I’ve been fighting by your side since I was a kid. And if we’re being honest—" his voice wavered with emotion, "you would’ve gotten yourself killed so many times if I wasn’t there."

The table was silent. Everyone had heard arguments between Bruce and one of his "children" before, but this time it felt different. It felt personal. Too personal.

Tim wasn’t done. His voice, usually calm and thoughtful, was thick with something that bordered on hurt. "I have parented you more than you have ever parented me, Bruce."

There it was. The raw truth hanging in the air like a blade between them.

Bruce’s mask faltered for a split second, his eyes flickering with something—regret, maybe—but he steeled himself quickly. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Jason let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair.

"Yikes, you really went there, huh, Timbo?" Jason said with a smirk, though there was no real humor behind it.

Dick shot Jason a sharp look. "Not the time, Jay."

Tim ignored them both, his attention laser-focused on Bruce. "I’ve been the one watching your back, making sure you don’t go too far. I’ve been the one holding this family together when you’re off being Batman. You think just because I’m still a teenager, I can’t handle things? I’ve handled things, Bruce."

Bruce’s jaw clenched. He hated this—hated seeing Tim like this, knowing that there was some truth to his words. But he couldn’t back down. Not now. "You’re right. You’ve done more than I ever could’ve asked of you, Tim. But that doesn’t mean you don’t need guidance. You’re still—"

"I’m still what? A kid?" Tim interrupted, his voice rising. "Is that what you were going to say? You’ve trained me to be a soldier, but you can’t admit that I’m more than just ‘another Robin.’ You’ve been treating me like I’m someone you need to keep under control, not someone you trust."

Across the table, Damian rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his chest. "Father’s right, Drake," he muttered. "You are still a child."

"Damian," Dick warned, shaking his head slightly, trying to keep things from boiling over even more.

Stephanie, sitting beside Tim, reached over and gave his arm a squeeze, her voice soft but supportive. "Tim’s not wrong, Bruce. He’s been through enough to know what he’s doing."

Barbara nodded from her seat, her eyes on Bruce. "You have to let him make his own decisions, Bruce. He’s earned that."

Duke stayed silent, watching the exchange with concern. He’d only recently become a part of this family, but he knew when emotions were running high like this, it wasn’t easy to intervene.

Alfred, who had been standing quietly by the doorway, finally stepped forward, his calm, measured voice cutting through the tension. "Master Timothy, Master Bruce..." He paused, looking between them. "I believe what we have here is a failure to communicate. Both of you are correct, in your own ways."

Bruce looked up at Alfred, his expression softening slightly. Tim’s shoulders relaxed just a bit, but the frustration was still there, simmering under the surface.

Alfred continued, his tone gentle but firm. "Master Bruce, you do have a responsibility to look after the well-being of all those under your care, including Master Timothy. But you must also acknowledge that Master Timothy is not the same boy you took under your wing. He has grown, matured, and proven himself time and time again."

Tim sighed, running a hand through his hair. "That’s all I’m saying, Bruce. I’m not asking to be treated like an adult just for the sake of it. I’m asking you to trust me. To see that I’m capable. I’ve earned that much."

Bruce stared at Tim for a long moment. The silence was heavy, but in his eyes, something shifted. Bruce wasn’t just Batman—he was a man who had lost too much, who had a hard time letting go, especially when it came to the people he cared about. He had always struggled with finding the balance between protector and... parent.

"You’re right," Bruce said quietly, finally breaking the silence. His voice was softer now, the harsh edge gone. "I do trust you. But it’s hard... It’s hard to let go. I see you, all of you," he glanced at the others around the table, "as my responsibility. That doesn’t go away just because you’ve grown up."

Tim blinked, the anger slowly ebbing away. He hadn’t expected Bruce to admit that, not so easily. But he could see the sincerity in his eyes.

"I’m not saying I won’t worry," Bruce added. "But I’ll try... to give you the space you need."

Tim looked down for a moment, processing Bruce’s words before finally nodding. "That’s all I’m asking for."

The tension in the room seemed to dissipate, and Dick let out a small, relieved sigh. "Well, that’s progress," he muttered.

Jason snorted. "Yeah, but I give it a week before they’re at each other’s throats again."

Tim shot Jason a look. "Maybe. But we’ll figure it out."

Alfred smiled softly, stepping forward to begin clearing the plates. "If I may suggest, perhaps we return to a more pleasant conversation. After all, family dinners should not be wasted on arguments alone."

Bruce and Tim exchanged glances—there was still work to be done between them, still things to talk through—but for now, the storm had passed. And for the first time in a long while, they felt like they were beginning to understand each other again.

"Agreed," Bruce said quietly. "Thank you, Alfred."

And just like that, the Wayne family settled back into their seats, a little bruised, a little raw, but closer than they had been in a long time.