Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne (Jingleheimer Schmidt) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
notlikeanyone) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
capeandcowllogs2011-01-18 04:05 am
notlikeanyone) wrote in capeandcowllogs2011-01-18 04:05 am
Entry tags:
Pussycat wasn't a kitten
WHO: Tim Drake-Wayne and Dick Grayson
WHERE: Dick's place
WHEN: Last Thursday (the 13th) lala backlogging
WARNINGS: Bat angst, cat ears.
SUMMARY: Tim has a lot to brood about and sometimes he just needs his big brother to talk to. Also, he's part cat.
FORMAT: I'ma start in para but we do what we want.
They used to talk all the time, Tim calling Dick on the phone or just dropping by his place in Bludhaven when things got too much to handle and he needed advice. When he was younger, and they could just sprawl (or do headstands) on the old couch, eat pizza and watch dumb action movies and act more like brothers - normal brothers - than any other time. When he could turn to Dick for his advice as his older brother, his older counterpart and predecessor, someone who had gone through being Robin and knew all the ins and outs and the things he couldn't talk to anyone else about, not even his friends who were superheroes as well; they still weren't Robin, they didn't live in Gotham and breathe it every second.
Neither did Tim, any more.
And things between him and Dick had changed as well. Maybe they'd change back, at home, maybe the gap would close in time, but Tim had a feeling there was no going back to the way they had been. Not completely. And in the City it was hard to let go of the bitterness and hurt that still lingered, because Dick was younger - but not young enough to help, just young enough that he didn't know and they couldn't really talk it out. It was frustrating, even though it was... good, to see him as Nightwing still. And sad, knowing that it wouldn't last.
It was too many things, and Tim had been content (content was the wrong word, but there wasn't a right word) to shove it all away and leave it to be dealt with another day. They could talk when Dick would really understand it, not have to rely on Tim's explanation and be left with hollow reactions.
And then Terry had to go and knock him out, checking him for some crazy microchip. Granted, it sounded like it had been a serious deal in Terry's world, and logically he couldn't blame him for playing it safe, but that didn't stop the indignation welling inside of him at it all. Not only had Terry knocked him out and tied him up instead of just asking him to let him do a scan, based on things that hadn't even happened in Tim's own world - but he'd gotten Carrie involved in it as well. And Bruce.
He didn't really want to think about that one.
His walls had gone up with everyone involved, but when Dick found out and asked him to drop by - just a simple little message - he'd. Well. He'd considered it. There were things he wanted to talk about, and it was tempting to try and fall back into that comfortable habit.
And now there were other things he both wanted to talk about, and really didn't. He'd been holed up in his room for the past couple of days, avoiding being seen, but he got that itch of staying inside too much (it happened, even for him) and before he really knew it, he was standing at Dick's door, pizza in had, knocking. He had a hat pulled down over his head and a long coat on, and an uncharacteristically unsure expression.
WHERE: Dick's place
WHEN: Last Thursday (the 13th) lala backlogging
WARNINGS: Bat angst, cat ears.
SUMMARY: Tim has a lot to brood about and sometimes he just needs his big brother to talk to. Also, he's part cat.
FORMAT: I'ma start in para but we do what we want.
They used to talk all the time, Tim calling Dick on the phone or just dropping by his place in Bludhaven when things got too much to handle and he needed advice. When he was younger, and they could just sprawl (or do headstands) on the old couch, eat pizza and watch dumb action movies and act more like brothers - normal brothers - than any other time. When he could turn to Dick for his advice as his older brother, his older counterpart and predecessor, someone who had gone through being Robin and knew all the ins and outs and the things he couldn't talk to anyone else about, not even his friends who were superheroes as well; they still weren't Robin, they didn't live in Gotham and breathe it every second.
Neither did Tim, any more.
And things between him and Dick had changed as well. Maybe they'd change back, at home, maybe the gap would close in time, but Tim had a feeling there was no going back to the way they had been. Not completely. And in the City it was hard to let go of the bitterness and hurt that still lingered, because Dick was younger - but not young enough to help, just young enough that he didn't know and they couldn't really talk it out. It was frustrating, even though it was... good, to see him as Nightwing still. And sad, knowing that it wouldn't last.
It was too many things, and Tim had been content (content was the wrong word, but there wasn't a right word) to shove it all away and leave it to be dealt with another day. They could talk when Dick would really understand it, not have to rely on Tim's explanation and be left with hollow reactions.
And then Terry had to go and knock him out, checking him for some crazy microchip. Granted, it sounded like it had been a serious deal in Terry's world, and logically he couldn't blame him for playing it safe, but that didn't stop the indignation welling inside of him at it all. Not only had Terry knocked him out and tied him up instead of just asking him to let him do a scan, based on things that hadn't even happened in Tim's own world - but he'd gotten Carrie involved in it as well. And Bruce.
He didn't really want to think about that one.
His walls had gone up with everyone involved, but when Dick found out and asked him to drop by - just a simple little message - he'd. Well. He'd considered it. There were things he wanted to talk about, and it was tempting to try and fall back into that comfortable habit.
And now there were other things he both wanted to talk about, and really didn't. He'd been holed up in his room for the past couple of days, avoiding being seen, but he got that itch of staying inside too much (it happened, even for him) and before he really knew it, he was standing at Dick's door, pizza in had, knocking. He had a hat pulled down over his head and a long coat on, and an uncharacteristically unsure expression.