The Batcave was quieter than usual—no alarms, no incoming calls from GCPD, just the low hum of machinery and the steady click of keys beneath Bruce’s fingers. The Batcomputer cast a blue glow across the cave, lines of data scrolling as Bruce worked through a cold case with methodical focus.

Behind him, Tim Drake was stretched out on the couch, boots kicked off, mask discarded somewhere nearby. His phone rested in his hands, thumbs moving fast. Every few seconds, the corner of his mouth tugged upward into a smile he didn’t bother hiding.

Bruce noticed.

He’d been noticing for weeks, actually.

Tim had been lighter lately—talkative in a way that bordered on rambling, cracking jokes at odd moments, lingering longer in rooms instead of vanishing back into himself. He was more distracted, too. More present and yet somehow elsewhere, eyes dipping to his phone whenever he thought no one was watching. And right now, alone in the cave, there was no one else for Tim to perform normalcy for.

Bruce leaned back slightly in his chair, watching Tim’s reflection in the darkened screen beside the main monitor.

On Tim’s phone:

Bernard: so you’re just… not gonna tell me why you’re still awake at 2am? Tim: insomnia is a lifestyle, actually Bernard: wow. edgy. mysterious. love that for you Tim: careful, i’ll start charging for the vibe Bernard: i’d pay. easily.

Tim snorted quietly, biting his lip as he typed back.

Tim: noted. i’ll invoice you later Bernard: please do. i trust your math skills 😏

Tim’s ears burned. He shifted on the couch, trying—and failing—to smooth the grin off his face.

“That case interesting?” Bruce asked calmly, without turning around.

Tim nearly dropped his phone.

“What—yeah—no, I mean—” Tim cleared his throat, locking the screen a little too fast. “Just… stuff. School stuff.”

Bruce turned then, fully, one eyebrow lifting just a fraction. “School makes you smile like that?”

Tim shrugged, suddenly very invested in the cave ceiling. “Guess I like learning.”

Bruce stood, slow and unthreatening, and moved away from the computer. “You’ve been happier lately,” he said. Not accusatory. Observational. “More distracted. More… guarded.”

Tim stiffened. “I’m fine.”

“I know,” Bruce said gently. “That isn’t what I asked.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy as the cave itself. Tim swallowed.

“I just—there’s nothing to tell,” Tim said quickly. “I’m just talking to a friend.”

Bruce crossed his arms. “A friend you text constantly. A friend you don’t name. A friend you lie about.”

Tim’s heart dropped. “I don’t—”

“Tim,” Bruce interrupted, his voice low but steady. “I’m not angry. But I’m not fooled, either.”