Timfic, continued
Dec. 19th, 2004 04:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
holliFrom here. Batfamily trauma; Bart is a cutehead. Et cetera.
They exchange nervous glances at this-- even Bart, though he seems to want to devote his full attention to his food-- and finally Cassie says "We're his friends. From, um, school."
"Right," says Conner. "School." He drums his fingers absently on the tabletop, until Cassie reaches over and covers his hand with her own. "Is Tim okay? I mean, not that I except you to know, but-- he won't talk to us."
"I'm sorry," Dana says. "He doesn't talk to me, either." She gets out the mugs and starts a pot of coffee, just to have something to do. "Of course, in all fairness, I don't talk much to him. It's been difficult. We weren't as close as we could have been, before, and now--" She stops herself; it isn't fair to dump all this on these children. They should hear it from Tim himself, at least.
"Don't worry," Bart says. "I get it. When my Max-- he was my uncle, and he-- and I had to go live with Jay and Joan, and they-- it. Was tough, I mean." He looks a little embarrassed. Dana notices that he's somehow managed to clear his plate already. She must not be used to the amount of food a normal teenaged boy can put away; Tim would have taken half as much to begin with, eaten a third, and poked at the rest listlessly before fleeing to his room. It just makes her more aware that she should be acting more like a mother and less like an invalid; it doesn't, however, give her the strength of will to actually do it.
"Do you mind having us here?" Cassie asks. "We don't want to bother you, or intrude or anything, but we actually did want to bother and intrude on Tim, because it's the only way to get him to talk to us." Conner smiles a little at this, and squeezes her hand. "But if you'd rather we left you alone, of course we'll--"
"Oh, no," Dana interrupts. "He's your friend, and you care about him. He needs that. He needs as many people like that as you can *find*, honestly, because I--" her voice catches, to her deep and horrifying embarrassment-- "I don't think I'm helping."
"Well, that's fine, because we know a *ton* of people like that," Bart says. "I mean, a *lot*."
"They're all welcome, then," says Dana. "I think we both could probably use the company."
They exchange nervous glances at this-- even Bart, though he seems to want to devote his full attention to his food-- and finally Cassie says "We're his friends. From, um, school."
"Right," says Conner. "School." He drums his fingers absently on the tabletop, until Cassie reaches over and covers his hand with her own. "Is Tim okay? I mean, not that I except you to know, but-- he won't talk to us."
"I'm sorry," Dana says. "He doesn't talk to me, either." She gets out the mugs and starts a pot of coffee, just to have something to do. "Of course, in all fairness, I don't talk much to him. It's been difficult. We weren't as close as we could have been, before, and now--" She stops herself; it isn't fair to dump all this on these children. They should hear it from Tim himself, at least.
"Don't worry," Bart says. "I get it. When my Max-- he was my uncle, and he-- and I had to go live with Jay and Joan, and they-- it. Was tough, I mean." He looks a little embarrassed. Dana notices that he's somehow managed to clear his plate already. She must not be used to the amount of food a normal teenaged boy can put away; Tim would have taken half as much to begin with, eaten a third, and poked at the rest listlessly before fleeing to his room. It just makes her more aware that she should be acting more like a mother and less like an invalid; it doesn't, however, give her the strength of will to actually do it.
"Do you mind having us here?" Cassie asks. "We don't want to bother you, or intrude or anything, but we actually did want to bother and intrude on Tim, because it's the only way to get him to talk to us." Conner smiles a little at this, and squeezes her hand. "But if you'd rather we left you alone, of course we'll--"
"Oh, no," Dana interrupts. "He's your friend, and you care about him. He needs that. He needs as many people like that as you can *find*, honestly, because I--" her voice catches, to her deep and horrifying embarrassment-- "I don't think I'm helping."
"Well, that's fine, because we know a *ton* of people like that," Bart says. "I mean, a *lot*."
"They're all welcome, then," says Dana. "I think we both could probably use the company."
