Tim knows, knows that he can't really make a big deal out of it. He's an adult, for the love of god, and it's not like he walks around advertising that his birthday is coming up. And it's fine, really, that nobody at the office knows; he doesn't need all of the employees at WE tripping over themselves to wish him happy birthday or, god forbid, making him cupcakes. He winces as he remembers Bruce's last birthday. Tim might be prone to occasional Zesti-and-pizza binges, but there's no way he can eat even half the sweets that Bruce had downed with a smile and a wink.
So, okay, he's not mad about nobody at work noticing. At home, though, it's a different story. He's used to Dick giving him his annual birthday noogie, and he's not exactly missing the noogie itself, but Dick hasn't so much as called. He's busy, yeah, and Tim gets that – he knows he's the poster child for losing himself in his work, so it's not like he can blame Dick – but it stings more than he thought it would that he doesn't even get a text. Bruce's birthday celebrations tend towards the practical when they're not outright horrifying, so Tim figures he's better off missing that anyway, but after nineteen hours of birthday and not so much as a hope this birthday sucks less than your last birthday from Steph, he's feeling a little down.
"Hey," someone calls from the window, and Tim jerks a little and doesn't fall out of his chair, mostly. Jason snorts as he hauls himself the rest of the way in. "What are you doing?"
"Research," Tim says, waving vaguely at his computer screen. "Better question: what are you doing? In my house, I mean."
Jason tosses something at his head, and Tim catches it before he can discern what it is. Jason's been more of a friend than a foe recently, more ally than enemy, but Tim isn't quite used to catching things from Jason that he wouldn't immediately have to toss again after. He checks it reflexively, but it doesn't appear to be anything explosive. In fact, it looks a lot like-
"Intel?" Tim guesses, already turning to stick the thumb drive into his laptop. The family knows that he's been looking for information on the Capullo case, and the Capullos have been making inroads into Jason's territory, so it would make sense that Jason would be able to find said information. Sure enough, when Tim opens the first file on the drive, it contains some of the bank records he's been after. "Thanks, Jason."
"Happy birthday," Jason drawls, and Tim freezes a little, wonders what it says that Jason is the one who remembered, Jason is the one who came to him, that his birthday gift was intel about a smuggling ring. "Don’t say I never got you anything."
"I wouldn't say that," Tim says dryly, trying to cover the fact that he's a little shaky on the inside. "Thanks. I mean it."
Jason shrugs. "Yeah, well. Your actual present is this: I'm supposed to get you to the Manor without telling you that there's some sort of surprise birthday shit going down. Heads up, surprise birthday shit." He makes jazz hands, smirking when Tim snorts. "Act surprised."
"If I act surprised, someone will end up with a Batarang somewhere unfortunate," Tim says, shutting his system down and standing. "Who thought surprise birthdays were a good idea for vigilantes?"
"I'm kind of betting on the Batarang thing," Jason says a little too gleefully. "I know where everyone's standing, so if I point you in the right direction when we walk through the door, you won't hit Alfred. Promise."
"I'll keep it in mind," Tim says, amused. He's feeling warm, a little happy, even.
This birthday definitely sucks less than the last. If he can get out of it without any Batarangs being discharged, well. Even better.