The Tumblr Bat Family

((Oops I didn’t realize how long this would be lol. SOOOOORRY.))

Tim could dance.

Tim could dance— and dance well— and that was enough to make Dick’s already spinning head swell with an uncomfortable feeling of confusion and intrigue that he’d only ever felt while uncovering a well hidden secret or finally cracking the last clue on a particularly difficult case. This was Tim they were talking about! Seventeen year old, gangly, lanky Tim who’d spent a good portion of his life metaphorically running circles around Dick’s feet and who’d preferred black over creamer and was allergic to nearly everything under the sun— Tim. That Tim.

Not the Tim that he’d gotten a peek at in the training room early one morning, leg resting precariously over a black barre and head bent, his shoulder blades pressing sharp angles into the pale skin where he was stretched over to meet his toes with the tips of his long, skinny fingers. Not the Tim that he saw arch back with a grace he’d only ever seen Robin possess as he flew from roof top to roof top, and certainly not the Tim he’d seen raising to the balls of his feet and stretching like a goddamn door to heaven was being opened just above his fingertips.

The soft music was in a different language— French, maybe— and must have drowned out the sound of Dick’s arrival, because Tim continued his routine of dips and tucks and graceful bows and little jumps and— And this was Tim, right?

He’d left without a word, returning to his previously deserted quest for a glass of water in a slight daze before returning to his room. How had he not known Tim danced? At least not like that— not with the little spins and bows and other things that made Dick’s heart race and his skin get prickly against the back of his neck.

It was just weird.

So Dick did what any master detective would have done— He observed. He watched. He followed and stalked and took note of every little tune-filled movement that Tim made from then on. And man, had he been missing a lot. They would be in the kitchen, preparing breakfast and debating over whether or not cereal and packets of Toaster Strudel frosting were a better alternative to health bars and a glass of OJ— Which it was, by the way— and he’d notice Tim when he reached up for his box of devil food. He’d notice the rise in the balls of his feet and the way his toes would press against the cold, morning linoleum of the kitchen and the way his feet would spread apart into a dancer’s hold, perfect and strong and memorized so dutifully that it had been ingrained into daily activities.

Once, a few days later after a wonderful roll around in the sheets, Tim had managed to unglue Nightwing from his bony torso long enough to sneak out of the bed without too much of a ruckus, getting up to stretch his cramped and slightly bruised legs (And maybe to get a towel, but hey, Dick wasn’t the one to blame this time.). Tim lifted his arms and stretched backwards, arms up and long and reaching for the ceiling until he’d heard the satisfying crack of his lower back— And Dick had noticed it. He’d noticed the delicate little point of his long, pale toes against the wooden floor and the way his foot moved like and arc across a sea of oak, barely skimming the cold wood with that same grace he’d seen in little snippet since his (One-sided) encounter with Tim that morning.

And it happened just like that, for weeks, Dick would catch sweet little glimpses of Tim’s tiny dancer in his every day activities, and it was so wonderful and so blinding that he just wanted to sit down and watch his baby bird make those inconspicuous moves again and again until his feet were ready to break and his back and neck were sore from the angel arches and soft plies that his body could so easily turn into a melody. Dick would watch him for hours and he’d kiss his feet and his arms and his hands when they hurt, and he’d be the one to tell him how good it was, and how pretty he was (Handsome, unless he wanted the silent treatment.) and how he wanted to watch him again and again and again.

It was then that Dick decided that he needed to do just that. He needed to be the only one in on Tim’s double life, and he needed to be the one fulfilling those promises, despite the fact that they’d been made without Tim’s knowing or consent— This was happening.

So he waited. Dick waited and waited and continued to check the training room at the same time every damn morning until one day— Finally, one day— He found him. Just the same as before, arched and perfect and stretching his leg over the barre like there was nothing to it. The uniform stuck to Tim like a second skin from where he’d been sweating, scrunching and smoothing out as he moved and bent, and it was damn distracting— But Dick was on a mission.

With the silent feet he’d been blessed with since his tender years, Dick entered the room with a cautious air. If Tim really didn’t want anyone to know about this, he’d be pissed and embarrassed and— God forbid— stop all together if he knew Dick knew. Slowly, he approached the teen and laid a calloused, gentle hand on the smooth, if only slightly freckled and scarred, back of his Timmy. As expected, Tim started. Or at least, as much as Tim could (would.)— Shoulders only tensing slightly and his movements ceasing altogether as he gathered his composure. A frown suddenly spread across the first Robin’s face at that; No, no, no, keep going, don’t—

“Don’t stop,” He’d said, gentle and crisp and cutting the tension like a damn knife. Tim turned towards him slowly, eyes wide and a little angry, and his pale lips stretched into a feigned look of indifference that he wore in situations that he wasn’t in control of.

“What are you doing here?” Tim whispered, hissed even, and his leg swooped back down onto the floor before Dick had another moment to admire it. Pulling out his shiniest smile and most twinkling eyes, Dick chuckled. “You’re beautiful,” He said, too honest and too forward and he was scaring Tim, dammit, “I wanted to watch. Maybe learn a thing or two.”

His words were precise and clean cut, but they were true, and the hard line of Tim’s spine smoothed considerably at the sentiment. He crossed lean arms over his chest and arched a thin, sculpted brow. The offer was working the little wheels in Tim’s brain, and Dick could see them turning, contemplating the humiliation vs. the chance to teach Dick something slightly more cultured than the Fox Trot. Slowly, his arms came down and his mouth straightened into a thin line.

“Go sit over there for now. Four-Thirty A.M tomorrow, and bring some clothes that don’t hang off of you.” He muttered, obviously still put off at the idea that his dirty little secret had been discovered by the man that thought ABBA and Queen were the greatest musicians known to man. But Dick did as he was told and sat against the mirrored wall, knees pulled up and face contorted into concentration and Tim spread his legs across the floor into a V and lay between them, fingertips stretched out to stroke the floor between the very ends of his toes.

Four-Thirty.

So worth it.  

Seriously?

1. Sexuality; 

Contrary to popular belief, I’m not gay. I don’t really think gender matters when it comes to the person. 

2. Insecurities; 

Extremely sexual people, my less-than-par emotional abilities, redheads, not being fast/strong/smart enough, etc.

3. Best memory; 

My first trip to the circus.

4. Worst Memory;

Being alone in the lab with the monsters I made attempting to clone Kon. 

5. Last person you kissed; 

Dick.

6. Why?;

I’m dating him? Haha, and the mistletoe. 

7. Last thing you fantasized about?;

E-Er. 

8. Greatest fears;

My loved ones dying. 

9. How did you change over the last three years;

Well, I think the biggest would be losing my role as Robin, and moving on from the Teen Titans. 

10. What do you want more than anything;

To prove myself. 

11. Bad habit; 

I bite my nails, and tug at my hair..

12. Crush; 

Isn’t this one obvious? 

13. Virgin?;

Uh.. In what sense..? 

14. Biggest regrets; 

… Not being good enough.

15. Wildest thing you’ve ever done;

Heh, already answered. 

16. Hottest teacher at your school; 

… I don’t think I’m permitted to say this online.

17. Where do you see yourself in 5+ years;

Dead, most likely. 

18. Favorite band; 

The Proclaimers.

19. Worst thing you’ve ever said to your mother; 

You’re not my real mother, Dana. 

20. Weirdest dream;

Again, already answered.