SUMMARY: The Santa Claus in question was handsome as ever; he had foregone the fake belly but kept the beard. Why did you suddenly have the urge to cut in line and sit on his lap?
'Tis the season.
If you hear this phrase one more time, you might just blow your stack. Being surrounded by kids at the moment, you kept your cool. The last thing you needed was to be bombarded by disappointed nuns on Christmas Day.
Of course, you wouldn't be nearing the end of your patience if Santa Claus had just shown up at the event.
The Christmas party organized by the Wayne Foundation for the orphaned children of Gotham was supposed to be your present for the city you grew up in. Since you were tasked by Bruce to oversee the event, you had hoped everything would go smoothly, seeing as, in true Bat-vigilante fashion, you prepared contingencies (and contingencies for those contingencies) in case anything went south.
What you didn't account for (really, it should have been the first thing you made a contingency plan for) was the man you hired to dress up as jolly old Saint Nick not showing up. Now, for the past hour and a half, you've been stuck to your phone trying to find someone willing to put on the snow-white beard and red suit. If you still can't find someone in the next five minutes, you'll don the Santa suit yourself, you resolved. You just hope the kids won't be disappointed. The last thing you want is to ruin a lot of children's Christmases by being a subpar Santa.
After getting off the phone with Roy Harper (yes, you were desperate enough to call even your vigilante colleague), you sighed in defeat. With all the actual Santas already booked, there was no one left in the city you could hire. You were debating whether it was worth it to break Waylon Jones out of Arkham Asylum, knowing that the man has always had a soft spot for you and would do anything you ask, when Roy called again.
"Tell me something good, Harper," was your way of greeting. "I'm begging you."
"You do know that sounded like an innuendo, right?" He answered after clearing his throat.
"Yeah, well," you look around to make sure there aren't any nuns nearby. "I'll probably need a way to let out my frustration if I don't find a Santa Claus soon."
"Right."
"Anyway, at this rate, I might as well use the suit myself and hope for the best."
"While I'm sure you'd rock in a Santa suit, don't do that yet," you've never heard Roy sound so excited. "I found someone willing to help you."
Please, not him, you thought.
"I would do it myself if I weren't in another city right now," Roy continued, unaware of your growing despair. "And well, Jaybird is in Gotham."
"No."
Have you been a naughty kid this year? Is that why you're being punished? Or is it simply the universe messing with you by using your ex, Jason Todd, in your time of need?
"No," you repeated. "Anyone but him, Roy."
"Come on, it's been a year since..."
"I said no."
"He's willing."
"Harper."
"And you're out of options."
You choked on this. Of course, it was so in line with Roy's personality to use this opportunity to make you and Jason talk again. With you desperate and Jason being a softie for children in need, you almost believed Roy had done something to the man you originally hired. Wait a damn minute…
He didn't.
"ROY HARPER!"
"Okay, gotta go," Roy says hurriedly. "Jaybird will be there in ten."
Before you could berate the red-haired man any further, the line went dead. If you hadn't been surrounded by nuns and children, you would've been cursing to the high heavens right about now. Leave it to Roy Harper to pull a stunt like this.
The next ten minutes were probably the most anxiety-ridden minutes of your life, and that was saying something. You've faced off against the likes of Scarecrow and Poison Ivy, yet the knowledge that you're about to see your ex-boyfriend again after a year of not seeing or talking with him was more terrifying than fighting the Gotham rogues. Then again, you wouldn't be so worried if the break-up had been amicable.
It wasn't.
You both have said things you can't take back. You've burned that bridge to ashes and built walls around yourselves, allowing the chasm between you to grow ever larger. Regret has since been a permanent fixture whenever you think about Jason Peter Todd.
So, it was really no surprise when, upon seeing Jason at the entrance of the community centre where the event is being held, you couldn't help but blame yourself for losing the most beautiful connection you've ever had.
The first time Jason met you, you were twelve and thirteen respectively. He had just been picked up by Batman after getting caught stealing the tires of the Batmobile, while you were already training to be the next Batgirl. Your family back then were neighbors with the Gordons, and, as though it was fate, you happened to be the biggest Batgirl fan on the planet.
Jason thought you were annoying at first, a know-it-all whose favorite pastime was to criticize his every move. It didn't help that he found your sharp mind intimidating and that he had noticed how extraordinarily pretty you are, even when your face was obscured by a cowl. Okay, maybe he was in denial about his feelings for you (a massive crush at the time), but not anymore.
So, imagine the utter betrayal he felt when you accused him of cheating on you.
It happened a year ago, and Jason, who hadn't seen you in months after traveling in space with the Outlaws, was looking forward to spending time with you again. Only, when he got home, all your things had been cleared out. When he finally tracked you down, you had been staying with Barbara, you turned him away, accused him of being a cheater, and, well, he lost his temper and yelled at you.
Barbara kicked him out after he had reduced you to tears.
You haven't seen each other since.
He knew you had been avoiding him since your break-up and, like the fool he was, allowed you to widen that distance.
He managed to convince himself that it was for the best, that he would have just dragged you down to the farthest depths of hell if he had stayed with you. It took his best friend and youngest brother literally knocking some sense into Jason for him to realize that you were the best thing to ever happen in his life and he was an imbecile for letting you leave. He thought about Damian and how he owed the teenage boy so much for watching your back while on patrol, not that you needed protecting.
So, after much convincing from Roy and Damian (Jason shuddered at the thought of them teaming up) that he wasn't anything like Willis Todd, he allowed himself to be persuaded into helping you out. He suspected the two had done something to the man you originally hired to dress up as Santa Claus, but didn't care enough to check that they hadn't roughed him up. How can he care about anything else when you're now standing a mere few feet away from him.
"Come on," you muttered to him, foregoing any greeting and shattering the nice reunion he thought you two would share. "You have five minutes to change, then it's show time."
"Show time?"
You frowned up at him, mentally cursing his height. "Do you know what kids want from Santa, Jason?"
He noticed there was a certain edge to your tone, as though you'd rather be doing anything else than talking to him. "Uh, presents?"
"Yes, presents," you hissed, crossing your arms over your chest. "And what else do they want?"
"Uh…"
You were scowling now. "They want to sit on Santa's lap and lie through their teeth about how they've been such wonderful kids this year and therefore deserve presents!"
You gestured over to the raised platform in the middle of the room, where a cushioned throne-like chair stood, your eye twitching in anger. "So, if you're not over there in five minutes, I'll have to tell a hundred children that they're not getting gifts this year because Red Hood and friends kidnapped Santa Claus!"
He watched you storm off, an invisible force clenching his heart painfully. You've always had a short temper, he knew that, but not once had you directed your anger like that at him. He was now excruciatingly aware of how much he had messed up with you and wished he had just explained himself properly before, instead of blowing up at you.
As he changed into the Santa suit that a nun had kindly handed to him, he realized then that he had never even told you the truth.
He is an imbecile, indeed.
You stood off to the side, trying your best to keep the scowl off your face as children lined up to tell their wishes to Santa Claus. The Santa Claus in question was handsome as ever; he had foregone the fake belly but kept the beard. Why did you suddenly have the urge to cut in line and sit on his lap?
You cursed yourself for thinking that way about your ex, who looked quite attractive in that Santa suit (red really is his color). The only thing holding you back from acting on your thoughts was the presence of the nuns and children surrounding you and the humiliation you felt for snapping at Jason. Months of pent-up anger and hurt finally caught up to you when you saw Jason; your only wish was that you had handled it better.
Regardless of where you stood with Jason, you were glad he was putting smiles on children's faces. You had never seen him look so proud and satisfied when a child left with the biggest smile on their face. He really looked like he was enjoying himself, and you couldn't help but wonder if he had perhaps already found someone new.
The mere thought of Jason moving on broke your heart. You found yourself slinking away to hide out in the makeshift kitchen, unable to bear looking at the love of your life anymore. Thankfully, none of the staff who assisted you in organizing the event was present, no doubt on their break after feeding all the children.
You didn't know how long you sat there, on the dirty kitchen floor. It could have been hours or mere minutes. The next time you looked up from your feet to check the time on the wall clock, your line of sight was obstructed by Santa Claus.
You sighed in defeat at the sight of Jason Todd, still in his Santa suit but without the white beard. The urge to run away and avoid the conversation you're about to have was strong, but you stayed. Your love for him was even stronger.
"Hey," he spoke first, having always been braver than you. "What are you doing on the floor?"
"It's comfortable," you shrugged. "You should join me."
Despite the skeptical look he sent you, he sat on the floor next to you.
It was quiet for a minute, then the muffled sound of children's laughter filled the air.
"You know I'd never cheat on you, right?" he asked.
"I know," you said solemnly. "I should have trusted you. I just..."
You sigh. "I never told you this, but looking back, I should have. I have always felt inadequate next to you."
It was the truth. Ever since you were both kids, you have always struggled to keep up with Jason. Just like his brother and predecessor, Jason had an innate talent for crime-fighting, while you and Babs had to work harder just to be acknowledged by Batman.
You always were jealous of him. When he died and came back, and you got into a relationship, you thought that it would be the end of your insecurities. But they didn't. Being with Jason only showed you how he could have someone better, and soon, you began to think he must have felt the same, when it was the opposite.
Jason scoffed, surprising you with his next words. "What? You don't think I've never thought the same? Never felt useless when Bruce paired us up when we were kids? Or that you could have found someone better than my pathetic self?"
"You're not pathetic, Jason."
"Then you're not inadequate either."
"Jason…"
"I still love you, alright?" He stopped you before you could say anything else. "And it's okay if you've moved on, I just wanted to let you know–"
You finally gave in to your urge to kiss the man you have fallen in love with, proving yourself to be only human. Your lips against his, you savoured the connection and hoped with all your heart it was not too late to salvage what you had with Jason. If it was, then you wished that the universe would at least give you the chance to start anew, for there was no one else in the world you would ever be with but Jason.
Faintly, you heard a gasp followed by a youthful voice. "Sister, I found Santa! He's kissing the kind lady!"
At that moment, you no longer cared about being caught kissing Santa Claus because nothing else seemed to matter; you had finally found a reason to celebrate the Christmas holidays again.
BONUS:
"Well, looks like Santa was naughty last night," an infuriating voice cackled the morning after your reconciliation with Jason. "And you must have been really extra good this year."
"Get out, Harper," you growled, not bothering to lift your head off your pillow which happened to Jason's naked chest. "Before I decide to deck your balls."
"You better listen to my girlfriend, Roy. Lian will never have a sibling again," chuckled Jason. "Not on her father's side, at least."
The red-haired archer grumbled, not doubting that you would follow through with your threat if he didn't leave in the next ten seconds. "I deserve a thank you, at least."
When he was met with silence, he sighed. "Fine, I'm leaving. By the way, the guy you hired is fine. Damian just paid him money not to show up at the Christmas party. He's in the Bahamas with his girlfriend now, I think."
SUMMARY: He followed your gaze, and, sure enough, there was a mistletoe just above your heads. His eyes fell on you, only to find you already staring right back at him. There was a twinkle in your eye that hadn't been there before and a hint of shyness in your smile.
Damian didn't mind Christmas.
In fact, he's rather fond of the festive holiday even if he would never admit it out loud. He was especially looking forward to presents and spending time with his family. It was truly a significant change for him ever since he had been left in his father's care six years ago.
What he did mind, though, was the freezing-ass weather around this time of year.
Patrols in December are especially challenging, and though Damian has suffered worse, he would still rather be drinking hot chocolate and opening presents on Christmas Eve. Alas, his sense of duty will always outweigh his desire for comfort. And, unfortunately for the criminals of Gotham who have decided to commit heinous acts during the holiday, Robin and the rest of the Bat-clan would never allow such evil to run rampant through the streets on Christmas.
He had just zip-tied a group of would-be burglars (Damian still couldn't believe they were about to steal from a toy store) when Jason, dressed in his Red Hood gear, dropped into the alley to join the teenager.
"Aww, I missed all the fun," the twice-undead vigilante snickers. "What did these mooks do?"
He gestured over to the men, most of whom were unconscious on the ground. Frankly, Damian would have gone easy on them had he not overheard their conversation. After learning that one of them had beaten a stray dog to death, well, the current Robin didn't think the "mooks" deserved the courtesy of him holding back his punches.
"TT."
Despite the bright red helmet obscuring Jason's face, he was certain his brother was staring at him in shock. When he spoke again, Jason had taken off his helmet, and Damian was forced to look him in the eye through their domino masks. He was sure he was about to receive the teasing of a lifetime when–
"You alright?" Jason's voice softened. "I haven't seen you this pissed in quite a while."
"One of these bastards killed a dog!" Damian said with righteous anger. "I heard them laughing about it as if it were some simple, silly anecdote!"
Jason hissed in sympathy before throwing a dirty glare at the scumbags lying on the ground.
"Calm down," he sighed, muttering under his breath, "Where the hell is Dickhead when I need him?"
Hearing Jason's nickname for their oldest brother, Damian knew that was his cue to leave. He ignored Jason's calls and swiftly grappled his way out of the alley. Damian didn't want his consoling words and hoped Jason would leave him alone for the rest of the night.
After catching a few more wrongdoers breaking the law red-handed, the teenage vigilante soon found himself brooding on a winged gargoyle atop an old building. He had chosen to avoid his usual patrol route, hiding from his family. Damian resolved to thank Oracle later, more than aware that she could have already sent Nightwing or, even worse, his father, his way but obviously chose not to.
He hadn't meant to act like the self-entitled, violent child he used to be, but his heart, as usual, took over. He was so incensed by those men's actions that he had moved without thinking. They hadn't even had the chance to break into the store before Robin was on them like a dark angel of vengeance. He would certainly get in trouble for that later, but, at the moment, he no longer cared. Nothing can ever justify the killing of a defenceless animal.
Damian was pulled out of his ruminations by a sudden scream for help. As his training had drilled into him, he jumped into action and headed in the direction of the voice. Luckily, he was not too far from the alley it had originated from and found you cornered against a metal fence by several men.
Curiously, in your arms was a shivering dog that looked like it hadn't bathed in months. The canine also appeared thin, but you had wrapped it in a blanket, so Damian couldn't be too sure. What was less surprising, though, was how the dog started snarling at the men who were obviously approaching you with ill intent.
Well, that won't do.
He expertly maneuvered down a fire escape, landing on a thug before any of them could notice him coming from above. As soon as their comrade fell to the ground, unconscious, the hoodlums finally moved to attack the teenage vigilante. Unfortunately for them, they were facing off against a boy who had been trained to fight since he could walk.
With none of them possessing a gun, just flimsy knives, Damian made quick work of them. All the while, he kept you in his line of sight. Whenever he dealt with scum while there was an unprotected civilian nearby, he always made sure to keep his eye on them even if it meant lowering his guard.
Predictably, he almost took a knife to the stomach.
Before he could retaliate, however, the man, whom Damian thought resembled a gorilla, joined the rest of his friends on the disgusting alley ground, unconscious.
The thug's falling form revealed you, standing there in shock as though you couldn't believe you had just knocked a man out with a metal pipe.
"Oh god," he heard you gasp. "I'm going to jail."
"You're not going to jail," he said. "That was self-defence."
"I still hit him…" you said faintly. "And there's blood."
There wasn't.
"Do you want to go to jail?" he challenged.
"You're Robin…" you trail off, not hearing a word he said. "And you're…"
Damian saw your eyes widen, your gaze focused on him. "Oh no! You're bleeding!"
"Huh?"
It was then that he finally noticed the slight sting on his left ear.
"TT."
Apparently, one of the incompetent fools had managed to nick him in the ear.
"A lucky hit," he growled to himself, vowing not to make the same mistake again.
He saw you regard him with a contemplative eye before sighing and walking away. Curious, he watched you crouch down by a stack of crates nearby and pull out a ball of fur. By the way the fur shook, he deduced it was the dog you had been cradling earlier when he first saw you.
"It's okay, buddy," he heard you murmur to the dog comfortingly. "You're safe now, see? Robin is here!"
Damian, for some unfathomable reason, flushed at your words.
"So are you," he said without thinking, startling himself. "Safe, I mean."
Hoping to avoid your curious look, he immediately busied himself with securing the men on the ground.
What on earth possessed him to suddenly say that? It felt like someone had taken control of his body and said those embarrassing things. They were words only someone like his brother, Dick, would say; corny and cringeworthy.
He felt foolish all of a sudden. To avoid your gaze, he occupied himself with triple-checking the zip ties he had used to tie the men. Ignoring the way his heart pounded in his ribcage, he decided to face you properly.
"Allow me to walk you home," he said before addressing Barbara, who he knew was monitoring him, through his communicator. "Oracle…"
"Already ahead of you, the GCPD are on their way," she responded. "You should be able to hear their sirens now."
True to her words, Damian heard the sound of police patrol cars already rounding the corner. "If she's going to press charges, she'll have to stick around."
"Are you pressing charges?" he asked, not wasting any time.
Though the question caught you off guard, you managed to answer and even let out an unladylike snort. "Gotham, no. I can't afford a lawyer."
"There are lawyers who offer pro bono services."
"I said no," your sharp tone took Damian by surprise. "If it's the same to you, I'd very much like to put this evening behind me."
He eyed you shrewdly before accepting your request. "Oracle," he addressed Barbara again. "Inform the police that I'm escorting the civilian home and… thank you."
"Anytime, Robin."
His subsequent interaction with you was nothing short of an argument. When he tried to convince you that traveling via the rooftops would be more efficient, you refused. When he offered to call his bike, you turned and walked away.
You nearly gave him a conniption after you threw his words back at him, reminding him that he had, more or less, told you he would walk you home without even asking.
So, there he was, grumbling under his breath, as he literally walked you to wherever you lived. While there weren't many people walking around, especially at that time of night, civilians who still caught the boy wonder walking on the sidewalk had to double-take to make sure they were not hallucinating.
Some time after you claimed you were nearly at your destination, you spoke to him again. "You must be wondering why those assholes cornered me?"
"Yes," he frowned before looking at the dog in your arms. "I was also wondering how it fits into the story."
"I know it was stupid, but they were kicking him!" You burst out, red in the face as you stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. "I wasn't just going to stand by and do nothing!"
"You rescued…"
You stormed off, and he quickly caught up to you. "I'm done watching poor animals die because of human arrogance. I don't care if I sound crazy, I…"
Damian grasped your elbow gently to stop you. "I understand."
You stood there, completely dumbstruck. Then, a gentle smile graced your features, warming up Damian's insides. He couldn't explain why, but the vigilante, who was still just a boy, suddenly felt the urge to kiss you.
"Come on," you break the silence. "We're here."
He turned around to follow your line of sight before turning back to you in disbelief. "You live in an animal shelter?"
"No, silly," you rolled your eyes fondly. "I volunteer here, and this place is closer than my own house."
You took his hand, holding your stray with one arm, and pulled him inside. "Let's go; we need to treat the wound on your ear too."
Damian, despite the glove on his hand, could still feel the dizzying warmth of yours. The thought made his heart tapdance in his chest, and he hoped Barbara, if she was still even watching him, wouldn't mention this to anyone. But just in case, he'd have to dig out his old blackmail materials he has on his family.
You led him inside a two-story building with linoleum floors and flickering fluorescent lights. You greeted the middle-aged man at the desk; the man waved in return without looking up from his phone. He hadn't noticed Damian, who was still dressed in his Robin suit.
"You have poor security," he points out futilely as soon as the both of you were out of the man's earshot. "You should consider looking for a safer shelter to volunteer in."
"Or… the Waynes could, I don't know, maybe allocate more money to places like these," you sang, unaware of who exactly was in your company. "Not a lot of people here care about animals, and those of us who do are trying our best."
Damian, meanwhile, cursed himself internally for nearly forgetting who he was and what it meant. He listened to what you had to say, your ideas on how you would improve Park Row if you had any money. In his head, he was already planning a proposal on the changes for Park Row to present to his father.
You took him into a back room, still talking about the dogs and cats that the shelter has rescued and found homes for. Damian nearly trips over his feet (if his brothers could see him now) when you suddenly place your rescue in his arms. You moved quickly and, before he could say anything, took out a first aid kit from behind an office desk.
"I'll be fine," he finally regains his ability to speak, cursing himself for being so tongue-tied around you. "I don't need treatment."
"Yeah?" You looked at him, unimpressed. "Ever heard of the term infection?"
"Yes." He grumbles in reply, and you smile triumphantly.
"Take a seat then, Boy Wond-ear," you simpered, and Damian couldn't help but think how you and Dick might just get along splendidly if you ever met. "Don't worry, I've had formal first-aid training."
It didn't take you long at all to clean the wound on his ear, and before he knew it, you were already urging him to leave.
"What if someone else needs saving?" you told him. "I'm not going to be responsible for others getting hurt because I took up too much of your time."
"There are others…" he tried to come up with a reason to stay with you longer, but came up empty.
You were already pushing him out of the room. "And don't worry about Buddy," you've already named the dog. "I'll call the local veterinarian and make sure he's looked after."
You both end up by the open office door, and just as Damian was accepting the fact that he might not see you again for a while (because, let's face it, he'll come back to check on you), he found you looking like a deer caught in headlights.
"Are you…" he began to ask, but stopped when you breathed out a word.
"Mistletoe."
He followed your gaze, and, sure enough, there was a mistletoe just above your heads. His eyes fell on you, only to find you already staring right back at him. There was a twinkle in your eye that hadn't been there before and a hint of shyness in your smile.
"May I?" he asked for your permission, his heart longing to be set free from its cage.
"Yes," you had breathed out the words as though letting them escape your lips provided immense relief.
At last, he felt the softness of your lips and wondered how he could have gone on living his life without ever feeling the ardent emotions he felt from kissing you. It didn't matter that the two of you were standing in a dingy office or that a dog was watching you exchange kisses curiously. What mattered is that, now that he had a taste of your lips, he wished he could share another moment like this with you under a hundred more mistletoes.
cross-posted from ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62679460
SUMMARY: As long as his love echoes both in your mind and in your heart, and even after life rips you away from each other, you will find Timothy Jackson Drake.
"You save everyone," you had told him once, on the near-empty rooftop of Gotham General not too long ago. "But who saves you?"
"My friends," was Tim's answer then. "And family."
He didn't think much of his answer back then because it was the truth. Tim knew he could always rely on them. He trusts that his friends and family will always have his back.
On that same rooftop, you had looked up at him shyly. "Guess you won't ever need saving from me then, huh?"
Behind his mask, his eyes narrowed. Tim glanced over at the city skyline but found his gaze moving back to you. He felt his heart pounding, cold cheeks flushing.
"Are you kidding?" He said teasingly before gesturing over to your teal scrubs. "I'm going to eventually need your expertise; the streets of this city are highly dangerous, you know?"
"Expertise. Uh-huh, " You raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Well, I guess I'll just have to be ready for when that day comes."
"I can rest easy, then."
"Hey, now," you had warned him. "Don't make this an excuse to be reckless. You've got to be careful out there, you hear?"
Why didn't he listen to you?
If there was one thing Timothy Jackson Drake has always been proud of, it was being a brilliant strategist. He was always ten steps ahead of the enemy and, if ever caught in a pickle, would always have backup plans labeled from A to Z.
So why now?
Why now, when you needed him most, did he fail?
Why fail now?
"It should have been me." He looked at you, your limp body cradled in his arms. "It should have—"
His voice broke.
"Oh god, please," he cried, burying his face on your shoulder. "Please, I can't… I can't lose you… not you… no… please…"
All those nights spending time with you on the hospital rooftop came back to him. When Tim wasn't working on a case, he would often swing by during patrol, and you would always be there. Dressed in your scrubs and oversized hoodie to protect you from the cold, you were there waiting for him with a warm cup of hot chocolate.
You didn't know who he was behind the mask, yet you still took care of him simply because you could. He had asked you why, why help a complete stranger? You didn't even hesitate when you told your reason.
"Why not?" You had asked him, your gaze above the skyline as you watched the early December snowfall. "I'm a doctor, remember? Saving strangers is basically in my job description."
Tim takes off his cowl to look at you properly. You were still bleeding from your head wound and the bullet hole on your stomach. Besides that, you almost fell to your death, and he couldn't bear to think what would have happened if Dick hadn't caught you.
"Red Robin."
Tim could hear the sirens in the distance, but he could not bring himself to leave you. The sounds brought him back to the night he confessed to you. He had made the decision to tell you who he was underneath the cowl.
It was early February, mere days away from Valentine's Day. He had lamented how cheesy it felt that he had chosen that month to confess, but he knew it couldn't wait. You had told him of your plan to move to another state, and if he didn't tell you how he felt, he was certain he would never get to.
You had looked at Tim like he was crazy when he peeled away his mask without forewarning. Then it had registered to you that he had shown you his identity in broad daylight (sure, you were on the rooftop, but still). You shrieked before slapping the mask back on his face.
"Are you insane?!" The conversation had to stop there after Signal flew past, then, chasing a stolen armoured vehicle. The GCPD was not too far behind them.
He felt Dick's hand land firmly on his shoulder. "Red Robin, we have to go."
"I'm not leaving her."
"Look, I've tied up the Riddler—"
Tim froze.
He could feel Dick's heavy gaze on him, watching him closely as he laid you gently back on the ground. The docks were quiet that evening, devoid of any activity after he and Nightwing had taken down Edward Nygma and his hired hand. His eyes fell on the shipping container you had fallen from earlier, two stories high from where you were now.
"Tim, don't—"
He kicked his brother in the jaw, knocking him down.
The Riddler had kidnapped you to get to Tim—no—to Red Robin. Then he beat you with his cane. And, as if that wasn't enough, he shot you. The impact had pushed you over the edge of the shipping container.
He and Nightwing had just arrived as you fell.
Tim hadn't been fast enough. But Dick was.
Still, that didn't erase the pain the Riddler had inflicted on you.
He was on the rogue before Nightwing could even recover from the kick. He punched the villain once. Twice. Thrice.
"Red Robin—"
He growled at the arms suddenly around his neck, restricting his airway. “Hood…”
A gas mask was suddenly forced over his face, and Tim found himself struggling more.
“No!"
He couldn't fight against Red Hood even if he wanted to, not when he was now being forced to breathe in oxygen and nitrous oxide. Faintly, he heard Dick's admonishing tone and Jason's sardonic one. On the verge of losing consciousness, his gaze found you.
Tim reached out to you.
Before darkness engulfed him completely, he swore you were reaching out to him too.
You two fell in love in the middle of May.
Azure skies and soft clouds painted the heavens with bright hues. Verdant parks and clean streets livened the city, no doubt the reasons why Poison Ivy has not made an appearance for months. Above the looming skyscrapers, birdsong joined the tumultuous sound of Gotham.
Among those birds, one robin fell.
No one had clipped his wings, thankfully. This time, Tim simply chose to fall. Why shouldn't he, when you were there to catch him lovingly?
He had picked you up for your first date. It had been the first time you saw each other wearing something other than your usual attire. Gone were your scrubs, often rumpled due to working sixty hours a week, and, in their place, was a maroon pinafore dress with what appeared to be sunflowers stitched into it.
Tim had looked down at his own clothes, a blue button-up (because everyone, even Damian, had insisted it brought out the colour of his eyes) and dark jeans, and he somehow felt oddly underdressed.
"I love your shirt; it makes your eye colour pop." And just like that, Tim decided to use more blue shirts.
You two had decided on a picnic date, and Tim had pulled out all the stops. He had prepared the food himself, under Alfred's careful and strict instruction, making sure to have all your favourites. That experience definitely made Tim appreciate Alfred all the more.
When Tim had found himself lying on his back a few hours later, staring at the clouds with you, he wondered idly why he felt light. He glanced at you and found you already staring right at him. He felt your hand grasp his softly.
Tim had realized then why he felt light, like he was falling.
He held your hand tightly in his.
"Tim," a familiar voice murmurs his name. "Timothy."
There was a bunch of loud noises, and then Tim finally saw your face. "Tim?"
He felt your hands cup his cheeks, and, despite feeling groggy, he lifted his hands to cradle yours. "I thought I'd lost you."
“Tim…”
"I saw him shoot you," he cried, moving to press his forehead on yours. "And then you fell over the edge. If I had just gotten there faster—"
You silence with a kiss. It was soft and unhurried before you pulled away again. "You didn't lose me, Tim."
For a moment, he believed he did. Seeing you lying motionless on the floor, he really thought he had lost you forever. It felt like his chest had caved in and that you had taken his heart with you.
"But even if you did," you breathed the words against his lips. "I promise to find you by the sound of your voice, wherever you are. In every lifetime."
For as long as his love echoes both in your mind and in your heart, and even after life rips you away from each other, you will find Timothy Jackson Drake.
cross-posted from ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62067616
SUMMARY: The last thing you wanted was for your in-laws to find out you were pregnant on the Batcomputer because Tim had googled "How to be a Good Dad?"
PART ONE
When you had told Tim that you were expecting, he was ecstatic. In fact, he was so over the moon he had sobbed against your shoulder for nearly an hour. Once he had reassured you he was crying tears of joy, your efficient husband didn't waste any time and jumped right into being a father.
You watched Tim access his computers, almost in a frenzy, before you realized what he was about to do.
"Wait!"
Though you're not heavily involved with your husband's family's operations in Gotham City because your duties were more, well, intergalactic, you're still aware that Tim's servers were connected with the ones Bruce has in the Batcave. The last thing you wanted was for your in-laws to find out you were pregnant on the Batcomputer because Tim had googled "How to be a Good Dad?"
Tim froze, startled when you had nearly tackled him to the floor.
You had grabbed your husband's wrists in panic, lifting his arms high in the air as you leaned over him. The only reason you both haven't toppled over was because you were still quick enough to use the power of your Green Lantern ring to prop up his computer chair. You avoided Tim's eyes, embarrassed, but spoke in an even voice.
"Let's not forget what happened last year, yeah?"
It took Tim a moment to recall what event you were referring to, his face turning as red—or perhaps even redder—as his brother Jason's Red Hood helmet when he did.
The incident you speak of unfortunately involves your browser history, the Batcomputer, and a former crime lord who didn't know when to keep his nose out of other people's business. Since you'd rather not speak of it again, still too embarrassed to bring it up, you simply gave Tim a look and hoped it conveyed the desperation you felt across. Thankfully, your husband was still as mortified as you and didn't say anything more after he had agreed with you.
(One of these days, you swear you'll find a way to get back at Jason.)
"You can let go of me now, honey."
An idea came to you as you released his wrists. Feeling bold, you disregard the remnants of embarrassment you felt from earlier and settle yourself on Tim's lap. You watched in amusement as the blush dusting your husband's cheeks turned even brighter.
"Er, what are you doing?" Tim stuttered. Cute.
"What do you mean, sweetie? I'm sitting."
For a second, you were concerned that Tim stopped breathing. You paused, worried you're making him uncomfortable. Tim may be your husband, but it doesn't give you the right to impose yourself on him, especially if it makes him uneasy. “Would you like me to get off?"
Without waiting for his reply, you begin to move off Tim, only to freeze when a pair of cold, clammy hands held you firmly by your hips and kept you from moving further. “Uh, Tim?"
You find yourself with a mouthful of hair when Tim gently nudges your chin and proceeds to connect his forehead with your collarbone. You feel him draw a breath, the tremble in the action unmistakable. You begin to worry for him until he speaks in a disbelieving tone.
"I'm going to be a dad."
The brush of your husband's lips against your skin would have had you flushing in an instant if you weren't so focused on his words. Tim still smelled of eggnog and post-hangover body odour, but you couldn't care less when your new reality is now setting in.
"Yes, you are.”
Booking an appointment with your family doctor was the very first thing you did after telling Tim about your pregnancy. Since you'd taken about seven pregnancy tests and missed your period, you were pretty confident you were, in fact, expecting. After your doctor confirmed what you already knew, she immediately referred you to an OB-GYN.
Around your sixth week, almost seventh, you were finally scheduled to have your first ultrasound.
You were anxious, as expected of any first-time parent, but no more than Tim, who hasn't stopped pacing while you got ready to head out. Like a cat on hot bricks, your husband restlessly paced the floor of your apartment. You couldn't help but comment on it. “Tim, sweetie, you seem more nervous than I am.”
"There's just so many things that could go wrong," he frets, still pacing. "Not to mention all the stuff that we have to do before the baby gets here."
You paused, one sock-clad foot halfway through your winter boot, and looked at your husband.
Tim was understandably worried, and so were you. In fact, having a baby frightens you. There were so many unknowns, as well as factors such as your jobs, both as a civilian and hero, to consider. However, if there was anyone in the world—hell, even the universe—you believed would be an amazing father, it's Tim.
"Did you hit your head during a patrol and not tell me?" You ask suddenly.
This, predictably, throws him off guard. "What? No, but what's that got to do with the baby?"
"Were you kidnapped and replaced by a clone?"
"Now I gotta ask you, did you hit your head?"
"No, I did not," you said, shrugging on your coat after putting on your boots. "But maybe you did because the Tim I know is always ten steps ahead of everything and even has backup plans for his backup plans. Raising a child with his wife should be a cinch, no?"
You were in front of him by the time you finished your little spiel. You cupped his face with your hands, gentle yet firm. “Yes, I know a lot of things could go wrong, but let's take it one step at a time, okay?"
You wait for him to recenter himself, pulling away as he takes in deep breaths and exhales through his nose.
"One step at a time," he sighs, calm at last. "We can definitely do that."
"Alright," you take his hand, leading him out of the apartment. "We can't be late."
The drive over to the hospital was a quick one. When you arrived, you could tell Tim had, once again, turned into a bundle of nerves, but you knew he was trying to hide it. You didn't say anything, on your own pins and needles, and simply held his hand.
When a staff member finally called you, you didn't let go of Tim even after you met the sonographer. You listened closely as the sonographer, Michelle, explained the steps of the ultrasound to you. Since the embryo would be too small to see with a traditional transducer, you would be undergoing a transvaginal ultrasound instead.
It was uncomfortable at first, but you've experienced worse pain.
"Are you two ready to meet your baby?"
You squeezed Tim's hand one more time, exchanging a soft but nervous smile with him. "Yes.”
And then—
On the screen, two pea-sized shapes moved about. You barely heard the sonographer announcing happily that you were having twins and Tim choking. You were too focused on the images of your children.
It felt surreal, yet not.
"We're having fraternal twins?" You heard Tim ask, though he sounded a little breathless.
"Yes, you see right here? There are two gestational sacs."
Twins. You couldn't believe it.
"Can we hear their heartbeats?"
Michelle smiles warmly. "Of course."
If seeing your unborn children rendered you speechless, hearing their heartbeats filled you with overwhelming wonder.
You exchanged teary-eyed smiles with Tim, his breath trembling as he planted a kiss on the back of your hand. You didn't say anything; neither did he. Despite no words being exchanged, though, you both knew one thing for certain: you're going to love your children with all your being and all your soul, and god help anyone who hurts them.
SUMMARY: There are many versions of drunk Timothy Drake, the fifth one being the overconfident and shameless Tim. It was that same Tim who was telling everyone who would listen that he would one day marry you.
PART TWO
Tim was not drunk.
Of course, Tim would never actually admit that he was drunk after his fifth glass of alcoholic eggnog. There are many versions of drunk Timothy Drake, the fifth one being the overconfident and shameless Tim. It was that same Tim who was telling everyone who would listen that he would one day marry you.
Meanwhile, you stood off to the side with your brother-in-law, Dick Grayson, as your husband made a fool of himself at the company Christmas party. Despite the annoyance you were feeling, your fondness for Tim's silliness kept any negative emotions at bay. Really, you were just glad he wasn't doing this at a Christmas party organized by the superhero community. You're certain it will haunt you for the rest of your life if Wonder Woman heard Tim say he was going to marry someone he's already been married to for more than a year.
"At least he's having fun."
"Tell that to Bruce tomorrow."
You saw Dick cringe, as he no doubt already deduced what you meant. You both knew there would be a video of your intoxicated husband in the morning, and though you're sure Barbara would have already scrubbed it from the internet, Bruce will have seen it by then. Still, to a certain extent, you agree with Dick. You've never seen Tim, who was always too busy schmoozing investors and trying to make Bruce proud, get so wasted during a Wayne Enterprises event. You would have been mortified otherwise if you didn't think he deserved to be careless for once.
Though you kept a close eye on him, you've noticed some women eyeing your husband, whose inhibitions have been lowered. While you trusted Tim, you didn't trust any woman who eyed him like a piece of steak to be claimed, and you'll be damned if you let any of them even try to make a move on him.
Noticing a vulture closing in, you quickly excused yourself from your conversation with Dick. You could feel your brother-in-law's amused stare boring into the back of your head, which you ignored in favor of focusing on your husband, who was now speaking with the vulture. You suddenly wished you possessed a yellow power ring instead of green, for fear would definitely come in handy right then in driving away the hungry opportunist who thought they could prey on your husband.
"Tim, sweetie, there you are!" You cut into their one-sided conversation, uncaring that you were being rude. "I've been looking for you everywhere– oh! Who's this?"
Through a gritted smile, you narrowed your eyes at the WE employee and recognized her from the finance department of the company. She's the woman who insists on giving her reports directly to Tim despite him already having a secretary to take care of those things. Tam, bless her, never allowed the woman past her desk, already aware of her hidden agenda.
(You make a note to yourself to purchase a gift worthy of that amazing woman).
"Oh, this is, uh…" Tim slurred, turning back to the woman after greeting you with a kiss on the cheek. "Sorry, what was your name again?"
"Aubrey," the finance woman grumbled. "Anyway, I was saying–"
"I think I'm gonna be sick," Tim cut her off this time. "Urgh…"
Despite your ability to mask your emotions when necessary, even you couldn't hold back your gasp when Tim proceeded to regurgitate his entire dinner onto the woman's clothes. The sounds of surprise and disbelief surrounded you as everyone watched your husband do the technicolor yawn on an unfortunate employee. Dick was instantly on Tim's other side, and you followed suit as you both led him away from the party.
You quickly found the nearest toilet and let Tim expel the rest of his stomach's contents. You crouched next to Tim, your hand soothing over his back, while Dick stood outside the open stall. You exchanged a look with your brother-in-law.
"Please tell me no one recorded that."
"Would you like me to lie to you?"
You grimaced.
"Honey…"
At the sound of his weakened voice, you immediately turn back to your husband. "I'm here. What is it?"
"I think I puked on somebody."
"Don't worry about that," you sighed. "It's not like she didn't deserve it."
You heard Dick snort behind you.
Really, that was the only good thing that happened at the party.
Your only regret is that Tim didn't at least throw up on her face.
Just as you expected, a video of Tim tossing his cookies went viral the next day. Though Barbara tried her best to get rid of the video, not even the great Oracle could stop the media storm that followed. Nevertheless, you thanked your friend for her efforts before promising to meet up once you had sobered up your husband and dealt with the repercussions of the previous evening.
You've already been contacted by your father-in-law (it will forever be odd to refer to Batman as your father-in-law), and you were tasked with keeping Tim out of the public eye while he dealt with the media. He sounded amused over the phone after you relayed the whole story, no doubt sensing the jealousy in your tone when mentioning the vulture. You, who still have to get used to Batman's affectionate side, were caught off guard when he asked about your wellbeing after you confirmed that Tim was simply sleeping off his hangover.
The call with Bruce lifted your spirits, and it stayed that way until Tam called right before lunch to deliver bad news.
"Are you freaking kidding me? That vulture is getting promoted?"
"Yeah," you heard Tam sigh through the speaker. "The joke's on her though if she really thought she could get my job."
"Well, what did she get promoted into?" You asked, praying to every deity you knew (some you've even met) that the vulture's new job won't allow her to spend more time or be in close proximity with Tim.
"Oh, she's being shipped to the WE branch based in London," Tam sounded absolutely gleeful. "She accepted, of course. I can't blame her; how on earth could she refuse the promotion when Bruce Wayne himself is offering it to her."
You chuckled at this.
"I guess I'll have to find a better Christmas present than a mug that says 'World's Best Father-in-Law' for him then," you said, spotting your husband's prone form on the floor. "Alright, thanks for letting me know, Tam, but I've got to go. My husband's literally crawling on the floor right now."
"Say no more," your friend lets out an uncharacteristic snort. "Talk to you later, boss lady."
"Sweetie, are you alive?"
You received a muffled groan in response.
"Have you turned into a zombie? Please let me know so I can alert the Justice League if you have."
A soft "no" came from Tim, almost whining.
You sighed. "Did you take the aspirin I left on your bedside table?"
"Yes."
You picked up your husband off the floor using your Green Lantern ring, Tim hanging limply in the enormous hand structure you created, before gently placing him on the couch. Thankfully, you thought ahead and kept the curtains closed in the penthouse, so it didn't disturb Tim. The only source of light was in the kitchen, where natural light came through the tinted windows.
Leaving your husband to adjust to being sober again, you moved to the kitchen to continue what you were doing after your talk with Bruce. You had been in the process of baking an apple crumble pie for Christmas dinner when Tam called. Since it would just be you and Tim that evening (you had wanted to spend your second Christmas as a married couple just the two of you), you only prepared a meal enough for two.
The thing about stress is that it makes you do things you don't normally do.
So, instead of one apple crumble pie, you ended up with four. You were taking out the fifth pie when Tim finally managed to function enough to stand. His arms entangled you from behind, and you felt him basically melt into you.
"I owe you an apology."
"Sweetie–"
"I shouldn't have drunk so much eggnog last night."
"Tim–"
"Actually, I shouldn't have drunk at all."
"Timothy!" You turned around in his arms, hands gripping his shoulders when he fell silent. "It's okay. Besides, I couldn't stop you when you were having so much fun."
By the small frown on his lips and the furrow between his brows, you could tell that he wanted to argue and insist he still owed you. You were relieved when he didn't fight you on it and asked what you were doing. Besides the vulture, you really did believe that Tim deserved the fun he had last night. Joking with employees, sharing silly anecdotes, and, for once, getting the experience of being a normal 9-5 worker and not a Gotham vigilante; Tim deserved all that. So, really, you weren't all that upset about it.
You have no desire to dwell on it anyway, not when you were about to give him the news. "By the way, I have a bun in the oven."
You watched in amusement as Tim looked up from the pies to the closed oven. "You're baking some bread too?"
"Not bread," you smiled shyly, taking his hand gently and placing it on your stomach. "Baby."
With your heart beating loudly in your ears, you nervously watched your husband process the information you've just given him.
"You're–"
"Yes."
"I'm gonna be a–" a wide smile began to overtake his face.
You nod happily, beaming at your husband, and secretly relieved. Though you've talked about children before, you weren't certain how Tim would receive the news of your pregnancy. You could tell he was overwhelmed yet happy.
"Tim!" You gasped as he gripped you by the waist and twirled you around the kitchen.
"I'm going to be a dad, and you're going to be a mom!"
You couldn't keep the smile off your face as you and your husband danced around the kitchen in joy. There was a bright future ahead of you, and you couldn't wait to face it with Timothy Drake by your side. At the moment, though, you couldn't have asked for a better Christmas present.
