Work Text:
Tim looks at the unnecessary slab of steak on his plate, drowned in an excess of butter. The vegetables are roasted, well coloured but wholly uninspiring. The shiny veneer and price tag of the restaurant chosen by one of the chairmen of Wayne Enterprises has chosen to host their international investors dinner would even have Steph turn up her nose, having become accustomed to the brilliance of one Alfred Pennyworth's cooking over time.
Lifting up the glass of red wine, Tim gracefully necks the whole thing as elegantly as a prima ballerina. No one shoots him a glance, not even as he signals for a refill. It was lucky, Tim mused to himself, that Brucie Wayne had spared him the headache of showing up to the event, having made it clear he was attending his actual Prima Ballerina’s concert that evening. Of course Tim was spewing about it, having to miss his sister’s performance as well as stewing over the spat he had with Batman over comms the evening prior.
“Mr. Drake, your thoughts?” Tim’s skin always crawled at the sound of Fowler’s nasally voice. “I’m assuming this would be your best subject to discuss, seeing as you’ve only recently completed your high school education!”
Tim smiled softly, unguarded. “I am rather passionate about education, you are correct Mr. Fowler. Though, my thoughts about funding another haughty private school for the secret second families of the Gotham’s upper crust directly goes against our current campaign to build more public schools and to overall lower the cost of education in Gotham, wouldn’t you agree?”
Fowler’s expression falters, but Tim finds himself impressed by how quickly he plasters his charismatic smile back onto his face. It was clear that he had understood Tim’s comment for what it was.
“That is true, though I do not see an issue to build another institute to raise great minds like the men at this table like yourself or I, Mr. Drake. As I recall, you spent a lot of time at the esteemed Brentwood as I did. We will even offer more scholarships to the... impoverished who can overcome their standing with the smart.”
There was not enough top shelf, vintage cellar or boxed wine in the world that could make this man any less insufferable in this moment.
“Now, isn’t that a philanthropic thing to say. Nevertheless, after graduating from a public high school in the last year and running WE, I personally found for myself how important it is exactly for public education to exist. How else would I have met your lovely son, Freddie? I was quite taken with his striking blond hair. Remind me, is it yourself or your wife whom he’s inherited such a strong gene?”
Tim throws back his full glass of Wine, smile all teeth as he settles it down again.
+++
They secured the contract, Tim finished off one and a half bottles of uselessly expensive red wine and went into a 5 minute coma in the back-seat of a Taxi to the outside of his penthouse apartment in the Diamond District. The opulent building of deceptively strong glass, reinforced for rogue attacks and the usual end of the world nonsense, was not home. Tim swayed in the elevator as it ascended into the Gotham skyline, before mercifully letting him out into the penthouse.
Tim kicked off his shoes and flops onto the white leather couch that still smelt new that he fucking hated. It was bought to be as stark as the rest of the apartment, white and off-putting.
“Little brother”
Tim is up faster than a lightning strike. Cassandra Cain is sitting cross legged on the kitchen bench. He completely missed her, bright blue hoodie and all. “You are drunk?”
Smacking himself in the face, running his hands down his face he replies “you heard, didn’t you?” a sad look crosses Cass’s face. “I’m sorry, Tim. This cannot be easy for you. Come to me.”
Tim comes at her beckon, Cass uncrossing her legs and embraced her brother who slid his arms around her waist and buried his face in the neck of her hoodie. “It’s going to be a fucking nightmare but I’ve got to do it, don’t I? I’ve wanted to so bad, ever since I found out and every time I’ve been over there since but I can’t go right now. What do I do?”
“I’ll go.”
“Cass-”
“I will go, little brother. It is not a burden for me. I am as Steph says, ‘perpetually unemployed’. I will go.”
Tim hugs his sister tighter. After everything that has gone down, the deaths of his father, Steph, his friends, Bruce’s disappearance and the fallout of it all topped off his split with Bernard had left Tim left him with next to nothing. Nothing in Gotham he could hold with his two hands and proclaim as his own, except his sister.
“You are not going out tonight, Red Robin” Cass says, soft yet stern. “You will get sick. You are already not well. You will get more sick while swinging and puking on henchmen. Stay home.”
Tim huffs a laugh, pulling away. “I’m fine, Cass, but I’ll be home anyway. I have work to do, just gonna change then head home” the slur in Tim’s voice pulls a frown onto Cass’s face.
“Stay here tonight, if you drive home drunk I will make Dickie arrest you” “he has no jurisdiction here, Cass. Plus, it’s 1:30am, I don’t think he carried his badge in his spandex.” The frown does not recede from her expression. “You stay here.” “I’ll drink some water and eat something, I’ll be fine. I drive my bike hopped up on way worse more often!”
The silence hangs for a while, Tim looking anywhere but into the eyes of the lie detector herself.
“How was your performance? I wish I’d been there instead.”
Cass doesn’t honour him with a response, sliding off the counter, picking up her bag and heading for the door to the elevator.
“You stay here. I will take the first flight tomorrow morning, I will be back when it’s done. Stay. Here. You can swing and hurl another night”
Without giving an opportunity to let him get a say, Tim watches her leave as quietly as he’s sure she came in.