Hi Hello, itâs me, Mimi, your resident @bloggerspam! [a humble fanfic writer]
Welcome to my new writing sideblog!
This blog will house all my masterposts, so it will function as my new Master-blog for all my writing and fics! (and for those of you who donât want to see my shitposting lol)
Please be patient with me, as I slowly update everything to my liking. I'm still not sure exactly how i'll be treating this sideblog, but you might get an influx of reblogs of my main blog stuff to keep here for posterity. idk yet! For now, masterlists!
MASTERLISTS AND TAGS:
DCxDP
- ADDITIONS AND NONFICS
- ONESHOTS AND PROMPT FILLS
- MULTI-CHAPTERS
OTHER FANDOMS
EVENT AND GAME FICS
ORIGINAL WORKS FAVES
For more Original Works (i.e. short stories, poems, writing-prompt fills) please check the tag #mywriting on my main blog for now :)
Wake up girlies, new AU just dropped! Can be found on AO3 too!
After Danny becomes Phantom, after Undergrowth, Sam's life takes a decidedly more magical turn. Not that she knows that at first, considering she doesn't have someone showing up to kindly inform her she's a witch.
That is, until her cousin Zatanna shows up in Amity Park after disappearing for four years.
===
Sam is distantly aware of her family's idea of success.
Her parents coasted on the money from being the legacy of a world-changing household invention, but they were socialites, through and through.
High society is as mercurial as the sea could be and her parents were sharks in the water.
They made their money move, like water, like rain, like rivers. Money talks, and the Mansons gave speeches.
No matter how much Sam hated it, her parents were good at it. They were made for it.
Sam was made from dirt, from the energies of Mother Earth, who gave back when tendered by the Universe.
Sam was decidedly not made for the glam and glitz of high society.
She knew it in her bones, down to the roots of her, and it was why she did the only thing she could think of: she went goth.
There were, after all, no high society goths on the scene.
At first it was just an abject disdain for what her parents did, for what her mother wanted her to be.
The sparkles were too bright, the laughs too fake and loud, the politics too much of a headache for Sam to even want to consider. She could, in honesty, she could, she just didn't want to.
And at 8 years old, that was all that mattered in the world. She didn't want to, so she didn't. She avoided sparkles like the plague, threw tantrums and screamed and yelled.
She learned about goths from her older cousin, Zatanna. A role model that Sam rarely ever got to visit, someone who was glam and glitz, but not high society about it.
Someone who didn't perform to navigate the complex systems of the Rich and OrneryâZatanna was someone who performed to be seen.
Someone who performed to be herself, to smile and say to the world smile back, that's all I need, smile back!
It was her cousin's greatest trick, making Sam smile.
Almost six years older than her and always on the go, it's a minor miracle Zatanna even met her with Uncle Gio always performing on the road. But they did and Sam has never been more grateful to have her cousin during some of the harder parts of being a high society kid.
Like when she was ten, and her mother was whisper-yelling something with Uncle Gio down the hall. They had just come home from a disastrous gala where Sam couldn't keep her temper and became a mocking point for the other rich families to poke and prod at. More than usual, anywayâmore than the typical she's just different; more because now, now it's like it was obvious a goth girl would ruin a gala instead of justâŠexisting on a different plane.
It wasn't hard to know that the subject of the fight was her.
"Don't take it to heart," Zatanna had said then, sitting on the floor beside her as Sam sniffled into her knees in anger, "take it to the stage."
But Sam's never been a performer, never been a star like her cousin so clearly was. She always preferred the daylight than the glittering lights of chandeliers. She preferred fresh air and sunny patches of green over too large rooms lit softly in the night.
Greenhouses, over galas.
She angrily wiped at her face, trying to keep her voice low when she explained this to her cousin.
"Then plant it deep." Zatanna had shrugged, smiling as she leaned over to carefully pull something from behind Sam's ear: a bright red rose. "Prune the unnecessary parts, tender the soft parts and grow deadly."
She offered the flower, and Sam took it delightedly. When she smelled it, it smelled fresh. Like it had just bloomed for her for this one single trick. Her cousin's eyes softened, the sheen of her eyes glinting the way tree leaves rustle in the dredges of Summer.
"You don't have to play their game," Zatanna whispered, just for them, gently bumping Sam's chin up with the crook of her finger. "But that doesn't mean you can't weather the storm and come out the other end more vibrant than any other."
She remembered, then, how Zatanna had smoothed over the ruffled feathers of Sam's mistake earlier that night by making roses just like the one in her hand pop into existence in clouds of colorful smoke. She remembered in particular when Zachary Newman, the reason Sam had lost her temper, had grabbed the rose that appeared in front of him and cried out at sharp indents of thorns.
And it felt like she understood what her cousin was trying to say, even if only by the feel of her words.
"Bloom, goth girl," Zatanna whispered, a show just for the two of them lit by the moon, "thorns and all."
Sam remembers clutching that rose to her chest, remembers the distant whisper-yelling of her mom, remembers Zatanna leaning heavier into her side like comfort, the smell of roses flooding her system like it had no idea what else it could do.
Sam kept those words buried deep within the marrow of her bones, because she wanted to be the kind of flower Zatanna would admire. She wanted to be the rose that she pulled from behind an ear, wanted to be the petals that scattered like confetti in the spotlight, wanted to bloom and make her cousin proud.
It helped more than she could say, more than she could handle sometimes, when she was called to perform.
When she could feel her mom observing her, eying the minutiae of Sam's every movement and breath. Searching for something, but never saying what.
She was never going to be the perfect daughter, nor did she ever want toâbeing goth was a rebellion until it wasn't anymore. But some part of her still rankled. Some part of her still wanted to play nice, even if her dresses were all black and purple and her accessories were sharp and pointed instead of shimmering and expensive.
She wanted to be differentâthat didn't mean she wanted to be a failure.
And then Sam turned twelve, and they moved to Amity Park.
A lot of things changed then.
She already didn't have that many friends in high society, and while she did have a small group of other outcasts she could call friends, they weren't the type to keep correspondence with someone who left.
It meant Sam only had her cousin, Zatanna, who would send her postcards from her shows on the road.
Sam has an entire collection of them, from all over the world. Sometimes, trinkets would be included, sometimes a flower would pop out from seemingly nowhere.
Sometimes, Zatanna would personally deliver them. Those times were her favorite.
They were sporadic in nature, but there was always one constant: Zatanna would always send a postcard on Sam's birthday.
This postcard, the last one to arrive at the old house for her twelfth birthday, was the most important one; It was the one that kept her company in their big, obnoxious Mansion, located in this new town, with nobody she knew but her parents.
Her room still echoed, with nothing yet on the walls, no rugs unpacked, just boxes and boxes that she made sure the servants wouldn't open and rearrange for her.
She sat on the floor to her bedroom and tried not to cry, clutching the postcard to her chest and trying her damnedest not to wrinkle it.
Happy Birthday, to the most magical Manson I know. You got this, goth girl! -Z
That postcard bolstered her through unpacking her room, with the scent of Jasmine wafting through the air and the melodious sounds of some garage band from her previous cityâfriends of friends of classmates who were just starting out.
Two days later, Sam only has one final thing to unpack.
She had left a wall blank and free of furniture on purpose, a clear space that her mother had made the painters set up when they painted Sam's room dark purpleâa wall covered in expensive cork top to bottom just like her previous room, framed in a somewhat understated black filigree trim.
Her parents knew how important this was, even through all the differences and screaming matches and pleading, they would never take this one thing away.
The night before she is set to go to school, Sam spends most of it pinning up all the post cards from her cousin with a heavy tin of push pins surrounded by the smell of incense. Pictures of her old friends, of her family, band posters and even ripped out pages of poetry she's particularly proud of, cover a small expanse of the wall.
It's room for growth.
She doesn't know, at this point, that Zatanna's most recent postcard is more important than she thinks it is. She doesn't realize that it's the most important and will stay the most important.
She can't, not for four more years when finally, finallyâthe next postcard from her cousin arrives.
It's late, and she should be some kind of mad about it. Four years too late. Or maybe it's on time.
She should be kicking and screaming or scoffing and throwing it away, but her fingers are stuck.
The postcard is of a train station, from some place called Utrecht Station. Sam heavily suspects it's European, but can't actually recall where this place might be.
It looks like one of those old timey photos, taken from the street where you can see all the windows of the station curving in black and white tableau due to the reflections of the light, simplified from the older generation of photography. All the people in it are walking briskly, like they have a destination or, more probably, a train to catch. They dress like old timey mobsters, actually. The kind that Tucker likes to mimic the accent of in those bank robbing movies.
She stares a little too long at it, mind unhurriedly processing in contrast to the busy bodies in the photo. She hasn't even flipped it over, doesn't fully know for sure who it's from butâbut who else could it be?
She only has two friends, and she left both of them mere minutes ago after they planned a whole dinner and show for her at the local slam poetry night. Is planning to see them tomorrow morning before class. Bubba always uses those crisp, square envelopes, never postcards.
Feeling ridiculous, she flips it over to confirm it is who she thinks it's from.
The confirmation is quick, but only leaves her with more questions than answers.
Happy 16th Birthday. I'm sorry. I'll see you soon. -Z
The day Zatanna turns eighteen, she learns what it truly means to lose a parent.
This is ironic, considering she lost her mother before she could form proper memories. This should be common knowledge for herâshould be innate even.
Is it better or worse when she means lost literally?
She's always thought this way of phrasing was strange; you don't lose someone or something to Death. Like life is a game, and Death is your opponent.
Death is inevitable.
How can you be lost when you know the exact coordinates of a grave? When the human body fits in a six foot dirt pit and the memory of a soul can be condensed down to a block of stone with a name and dates on it?
But she lost her mother. Dead or alive, she's out there somewhere that Zatanna cannot locate and now her father has suffered the same fate. Except it's different now: she doesn't know her mother beyond the confines of photos stored in old albums, the breath between stories told to her like bedtime lullabies, the dreams her brain conjures up at night.
But she knows her father. She knows the breadth of himâthe scent and habits and ticks. She knows the cadence of his speech, the feel of his hand ruffling her hair, the feel of the soft forehead kisses he gives when she cries, the weight of his I'm proud of you, the security of being cradled in his arms like a child no matter how old she gets, the scrunch of his brow when she scolds him on his diet.
Her mother's circumstances aside, how could she lose her father? It seems unfathomable. He's a grown ass man, and he loves her, and they have a show that must always continue.
But just as Death cares not for schedules and promises, Reality is always blunt and honest: her father is missing and Zatanna feels the ache of it like she's been cored out from her gut. She feels it in the back of her teeth as she smiles on stage, and she feels it when she's sitting backstage in the dark and trying to breathe.
In the end, Zatanna can't even go through a second show without him. Thankfully, it isn't hard to simply cancel the rest of the tour and disappear. It's not like they ever had a concrete scheduleânot like they do in the summers, doing shows in Vegas.
Zatanna, mostly, wants to scream.
She embarks on a questing trip to find her dad, instead.
It turns out to beâŠa lot more convoluted than she ever thought it would be.
===
Before Sam turns thirteen, she goes through puberty.
Well, she thinks it's puberty anyway. Your body and it's natural changes, and all that. Birds and Bees? Sam doesn't really care.
Meat starts to sit heavy in her gut. Just looking at it makes her want to puke. Her breasts haven't changed but she's grown a couple inches, and somehow the aches are on her joints and in her gut.
Taneisha brings an assortment of meat for lunchâand worst of all beef jerky to class, munching on it at all times, and the smell of it bothers Sam. Danny brings something called onigiri for lunch, rice balls with an assortment of fillings that his sister made for him. Somehow, Sam can still smell the salmon and tuna even with the overpowering scent of mayo and sriracha mixed in.
It makes lunch a terrible ordeal, seemingly out of nowhere.
She finds her only reprieve in the garlic steamed vegetables Chef makes for the table at home.
Her mom notices, because her mom notices too much.
Vegetables, tofu, pastas and salads start becoming more prominent at the table.
Sam doesn't say thank you.
Her mom doesn't mention it. Her dad continues to chatter quietly to fill the space.
It's a long year of trial and error.
Her skin itches like the very air around her prickles at her skin, her two best friends are childhood friends who may or may not be in love with each other, her mom won't say anything of substance, and the roots of her hair needs to be dyed black again.
But her veins feel full and she isn't yelling at her mom as much and Danny thinks the bits of blonde that poke out make her look more goth, actually, and she's taller than most of the girls in her class and it makes her feel smug.
There's an energy that thrums under Sam's skin, a restlessness that crawls into the atmosphere, that huffs out in foggy breathes of cold crisp morning air.
Something is wrong with her. Is this normal?
It starts to rankle when she blinks awake to find herself in her yard, a fistful of grass in one hand and the taste of dirt on her tongue.
What the hell is she doing?
She can't stomach meat, she can't stomach fish.
She used to love sushi, and now she's eating fucking grass.
She throws herself into researchâfinds an article about slaughter houses, and realizes that life isn't something to take for grantedâthat privilege is real, and frankly she should be paying more attention.
Danny's dad is Japanese, and his half-Asian features make him more feminine than he wants to be. Taneisha's a black woman in a white man's world. And the patriarchy is a shit place to be when you're a goth girl, even if she's white and rich.
Puberty fucking sucks, and eating meat is a sign of genocide.
She starts to tell everyone she's vegan. She determinedly eats salad, talks about the treatment of cows and chickens and pigs to anyone who will listen.
Her dad gets a greenhouse built, her mom creating a sanctuary of exotic flowers and expensive herbs in it.
Sam and her mom share custody of it, in a sense. She determinedly keeps dirt in her hand and not her fucking mouth, and sometimes her mom makes salves for the itch under her skin. Sometimes her mom makes perfumes, or lotions, or even dyes that Sam dips her fingers into to turn the tips of them a sort of blackish purple.
She doesn't think about her mom giving her salves without Sam telling her anything. She doesn't think about the perfumes and lotions she sneaks back into her parent's bathroom. She doesn't think about her dad, carefully patting her mom's hand at the dinner table when her mom won't stop staring at Sam's fingers.
She doesn't think about the perfumes and lotions not showing up on her vanity anymore.
She gets her shit together.
She goes to school, eats her vegan lunch, and tries to tell herself it's enough.
Summer comes and goes in a blur.
Danny sheepishly shows them his crazy house, shields them from his borderline mad scientist parents as best he can, introduces them to his sister Jazz.
Taneisha tells them she's not a she anymore. Taneisha tells them she's never been a she. Taneisha tells them she's a he.
Taneisha whispers he likes the name his mother gave him, but can't hold it anymore. Taneisha's voice cracks about how he doesn't know how to tell his family. Taneisha warbles shakily about how he thought he was a lesbian, which would have somehow been easier to handle than this. Taneisha cries, and it's the first time Sam's ever seem him cry.
Danny, panicked and more of a crybaby than any of them, frantically says boys don't cry, don't cry!
Sam, angry at the world and the tearsânot at Taneisha, but of the emotions that overwhelm himâhisses that boys can cry whenever they want, stop spreading toxic masculinity dummy!
Taneisha's laugh shatters around them but they get through it.
They sit in a huddle in Danny's room and look up boy names until Taneisha isn't Taneisha anymore.
The end of the Summer is cresting, and Sam and Danny meet Tucker for the first time.
You're my best friends in the whole world. Tucker says, his hand in hers and Danny's completing a circuit that zings through her.
And suddenly she's not quite so alone anymore. It's not all better, she still hasn't told them about herâŠeverything, and she obviously doesn't belong to them the way they belong to her, but it's enough.
It's enough, for now.
She goes home, does not eat the fucking grass, and smiles a feral smile.
Zatanna is nineteen when she falls into bed with John Constantine.
Though, calling it a bed would be generous. It was more of a sofa, with lots of cushions and very little self respect.
But it was nice, to forget the world for a moment. To narrow it all down to skin and flesh and heat and whatever the hell makes up John Constantine on a molecular and mystical level.
It's why she kept coming back the House of Mysteries, why she risks time dilation whenever she slips between dimensions.
She's had a hell of a year and she deserves this, she tells herselfâeven as a small voice in the back of her mind still whispers judgmentally about seeking carnal pleasures when her father is still out there, somewhere.
But that voice is the same voice that sneers at her in the middle of the nightâthe same voice that asks her what if Dad disappeared on purpose, because of you? Isn't that what Mom did?
Raspy kisses lave upon her neck, John's hands traveling up and down her body, bringing her thoughts to heel. She bites at the nearest piece of skin nearby, and the groan she gets in return is both gratifying and grounding.
Useless thoughts have no right to swirl around in her head. She's met heroes and gone on adventures with new hero friends and whilst she still hasn't found her father, her network has grown exponentially. She has access to rumors, to magic, to an organization that keeps getting more and more influential the more heroes join it: The Justice League.
Already, she's heard whispers of at least her father's living status. He's out there somewhere and it's better than what her father could glean from her mother's disappearance.
To the world at large, her mother is dead. To her and her father, her mother is missing.
It helps, knowing that the situation with her father is different in some minute way.
It helps, because this means there's hope.
What it doesn't help is answer Zatanna's questions: Why he disappeared in the first place, why he won't contact her, won't even send a postcard.
This stray thought catches on the ridges of her teeth, mind wandering as her body goes numb again.
She thinks about her cousin, Sam, thinks about how the days have blurred together and she can't quite remember if she sent a postcard to her this year. Zatanna's own birthday passed without her knowledge, but surely Sam's birthday hasn't passed yet?
Aunt Pam had moved them to some small town, hadn't she? Zatanna will have to look for it. Perhaps rework a spell.
Strong hands grip her thighs, spread her decadently as a line of heat gently lays upon her like a blanket, skin on skin on skin.
"You with me, 'luv?" John whispers into the crook of her shoulder and neck. The soft kiss he punctuates the question with is hesitant, checking in.
"I'm here, John." Zatanna rasps, thoughts scattering, dissolving into nothing but flesh again, blissful as the heat of his lips dissipates and she tries not to let it.
"Still okay?" John's hands stop wandering, either seeing her distraction or actually worried, which won't do at all.
She wraps her arms around his neck, clutches at him with her legs.
She melts away, thoughtlessly, carelessly, buoyantly.
She doesn't need to worry right now. She doesn't need to think.
She just needs to be here.
She kisses him, and he kisses her back, and that's all she can carry for the moment.
Tomorrowâtomorrow, she'll pick the rest of it back up.
But that is for tomorrow.
===
Danny dies on a muggy Summer day, just before Sam's fourteenth birthday.
Sam's heart won't stop fucking beating on her chest like it's trying to rip out of her for the entirety of the remaining Summer.
The unnameable thing under her skin threatens to swallow her in a maw covered in needles and pins, but she cannot fucking think about it.
Puberty does not last that fucking long. Puberty does not make you want to crawl out of your own skin, does not make you feel like the marrow in your bones are sucked dry, does not make your head spacey and irritable, does not make you eat fucking grass.
She's ultra recyclo vegetarian and it is unfortunately the best decision of her life, and she can't fucking think about it because she saw her best friend die, and being near him feels electric.
She wants to get closer, but doesn't want to touch.
She blames it on hormones.
Come on, Danny.
Sam stomps into the greenhouse, breathes heavy like anvils and skin burning like there are a million tiny brands sizzling on her pores.
A Ghost Zone?
Her arms are covered in dirt, she's sweating and she's surrounded by plants. The soil is damp and the coolness of it, the soft almost melty, almost fluffy cadence of it sinks into her as she digs and digs and digs.
Arenât you curious?
The greenhouse is technicolor, and the air is soft and stark like petals and pollen. Her knees make indents in the potting soil, she's a fucking messâher skirt and crop top are covered in dirt and petals and roots, her doc martens are smeared with mud, and she feels wild and manic and unreal.
You gotta check it out.
Famous fucking last words.
She doesn't how long it takes for her to feel normal again, but eventually all of the buzzing on her skin drains out of her. Her breath steams out of her like locomotion, but she's finally on solid ground. Pun not intended.
She's elbow deep in potting soil, the humid air of the greenhouse coddles her, and her body is thrumming with something she doesn't want to name.
Danny is alive. Danny is alive, and that's all she needs to know. She will not look a gift horse in the mouth.
She tries not to feel uprooted when she stands up.
She fails.
She stares at the greenhouse flowers, distantly wondering when the adrenaline will crash.
Every blink she makes flashes the same images in her head, on rotation. Danny's body, jolting when he put his hand on the wallâon the button that wasn't supposed to be there. Danny falling to his knees, crashing to the floor. Danny not moving, not breathing, the sudden absence of noise.
Danny's scream echoes in the space between her ears, short, agonizing, cut off like a rose bring pruned.
Her own roses are vibrant, red, red, red.
It's a boon, she's never hated green until now, and everything feels overwhelming.
I'm okay.
Danny's voice has always had that sort of lilt to it, something about the consonants or maybe the vowels. He doesn't have an accent like Jack does, is as American as she or Tucker are, but his consonants are softer, somehow.
I'm okayâSam, Tuck, I'm okay.
She clings to this memory the most, Danny blinking his eyes open with a groan and panicking at the sight of his two best friends crying, distraught.
Danny still doesn't know what to do in the face of tears, and that more than anything had calmed both of them down. Helpless laughter had bubbled up between her and Tuck, a new kind of understanding they had trouble finding after Tucker transitioned.
Not because Sam had a problem with Tucker being a guy, but because it was another thing that separated her from the group nowâthat she was the only girl.
She still hasn't told them about her parents. She's still scared.
Almost losing Danny makes her want to be brave. She's already in deep, and she can'tâ
She furiously wipes her eyes, tracking dirt all over her face and somehow it makes her stronger.
The smell of leaves, of pollen, of soil, it all dives deep into her as she takes a bolstering breath.
She clenches her fists, feels the trace of pebbles between the spaces of her knuckles, and decides that it's far too late to still be scared.
It's been too late.
After school starts, she'll invite them over. They'll play bowling, and she'llâshe'll stand her ground if they change their attitudes.
They won't, some part of her knows, hopes, but if they doâ
She closes her eyes. Takes another breath.
Danny's body on the ground, Tucker's scream overlapping with hers, the heat of their bodies as they held each other afterwards, the crackle of something as she felt Danny alive.
She opens her eyes, sears the image of the bright colors of the greenhouse into her brain, and leaves.
Life as the sort of sidekick to a superhero is as exciting as it is annoying as hell.
Something about Danny is driving Sam crazy, which makes her really mad.
Every little touch makes her want to get closer and farther away.
The fake out make outs don't exactly help either.
Sam can only calm down when she eats, can only direct her ardor towards supporting Danny in being a hero, invests all of her energy in the green house, she feels everything and feels nothing.
Everything is itchy, petty squabbles of teenagedom feel monumental, her moods are erratic, she's self righteous with Danny's new responsibilities, and she and Tucker fight like cats and dogs.
In short: Sam is a heinous bitch.
This is nothing to be surprised about, most teenagers are assholes, hormones and puberty and all that. It's not even all the time, just little moments here or there.
But Sam doesn't feel like herself.
She feels uprooted, like she's outgrown the pot she's been planted in, where the pavement starts to crack and weeds start to sprout.
She tries to change the lunch menu, she hates and loves the feel of Danny's mouth on hers, Tucker's voice gets grating even though she cares about him and his opinionsâshe does she does she does.
She tells them about her family, finally, and it's good, it's great. It's supposed to make things better, smooth over the rough edges and it does, but not for long.
Not for long at all.
There's something incandescently unfair in the way she feels so close to her friends and so far at the same time, like her life is spiraling out of control but at least she's not so fucking alone.
The ghosts, at least, are easy. The ghosts are good. The ghosts give her an outlet, even if she feels like a dick making Danny deal with them like a fucking weapon.
The ghosts give her a purpose, an enemy.
And then she wishes she never met Danny or Tucker.
This is the first crack in her facade.
Being the only one there, being the one to set the dials, being the one to kill Danny again, it ruins her on a molecular level.
It cracks something fundamental inside her that she doesn't think she can fully recover from.
Because this isn't herâthis isn't who she wants to be.
But some part of her begs her to do something, begs her to fix the only things that have made sense in her world for the past yearâbegs her to get back to normalcy even if that means ghost fighting.
Even if that means Danny dying again, means her skin has to burn in the wake of the portal ripping itself open again.
She tries not to feel flayed, and utterly fucking fails.
The second crack, the pivotal one, the life changing one that splits her into pieces, happens when she gets swallowed by the Green.
She doesn't really remember much of her time in Undergrowth's hold, doesn't really remember the things she didâjust like everyone else in town she remembered seeing Undergrowth, remembered getting surrounded, and thenâŠnothing.
Just blinking awake to see Danny, concern writ all over his face, giving her a tiny crystal made from his new ice powers and smiling at her in a way that made it all seemâŠtrivial. Because she was back, they were all back, and nobody else remembered and Danny said it was fine so why should it matter?
So it didn't.
Until it did.
===
It starts with the dreams.
They're nothing at first, comforting even. Like being nestled.
They're not so bad, in all honesty. They're not good, but they're notâŠbad.
They're disturbing only in the fact that they aren't disturbing.
She's surrounded by darkness and the familiar thumping of her own heartbeat.
The dreams are just that, at first. Just her being cradled.
It's nothing. It's simultaneously less than nothing and more than nothingâher heartbeat and the darkness.
Small snatches in the vast landscape of her mind in REM.
It's when she hears voices that things take a turn.
Not voices. A voice. The voice.
Undergrowth.
She doesn't know it's his voice definitively for a while, waking from these dreams like a haze is still framing her vision.
She doesn't even remember what the voice says at first. Too tangled up like vines around her throat, her eyes, her ears.
And then one day she gasps awake with Undergrowth's humming, the words yes, yes you'll do, blooming in her head.
She avoids the greenhouse that specific day, asking Shenzi, one of the gardeners, to tend to it in her stead.
Shenzi gives her a long look for it, all the of staff employed by the Mansons know to steer clear of it beyond maintaining the glass and the temperature, but she does it and that's all Sam cares about. Shenzi is thorough and good with her hands, and she takes absolutely no shit from Samâof course Sam can trust her.
It isn't until Shenzi, in the aforementioned act of taking absolutely no shit from Sam, refuses Sam's request that she realizes things have begun to rot.
"Sorry?" Sam blinks up at the woman.
"I said," Shenzi, in that half-lidded calm stare of hers, "that I will not be able to abide by your request, Miss Sam."
"Whyâ" Sam, bewildered, takes a moment with a stutter to her breath. "Why not?"
"Because you love that greenhouse," Shenzi slowly informs her, in the same way she had to explain to a nine year old Sam that even though poison ivy was a good deterrent to intruders it would not be a pleasant plant for the gardeners to keep around the Mansion, "you yearn for it, but you have not stepped foot in it for three weeks."
That. Can't be true. Can it?
But Shenzi would never lie, and more importantly, Sam cannot recall the last time she was in the greenhouse.
She realizes then that Undergrowth's voice has been haunting her, no pun intended.
Innocuous moments plagued by snatches of memory. Snippets of selfish violence, of harsh encouragements and rumbling satisfaction.
It's the questions that have ruined her. The cooing and, worst of all, how his words make her feel.
Do you feel the power?
She did. She does. Power beyond her imagination, flowing through her veins like root systems being flash flooded.
Aren't you thankful? Aren't you proud?
She never would have tasted this kind of power without him, she realizes. She was never meant to take so much when she was only supposed to be a caretaker. She was only supposed to be his proxy, and Mother.
Doesn't it feel good, to take? To grow them? Isn't it lovely?
Question upon question that she doesn't really know the answer to, or does and doesn't want to know the answer to. Always yes and no at the same time in equal measure, when she it should have just been no.
Do you not love them?
And she did. She really didâ
Is it not love to give and give and give? Is it not care?
And it wasn't, it isn't. She's taking in equal measure, she was smothering themâ
Is it not a mother's way? To nurture? To let roam free? To feel the flush of Spring?
Not when it overruns the city. Not when flowers weren't meant to be this big, not when Nature's response has never been growth in size, but growth in numbersâfields of flowers, the next generation, over and over, life cycles meant to be short and blossoming like fireworks.
Flashes of giant vines, of stems being stretched to the limit and beyond, of giant flowering carnivorous heads of plants that hungered plague her when she blinks.
Nature's response was never bigger. Nature's response was always more. Nature's response was always share.
She thinks of her own mother, of the finger dyes and the salves her mother still leaves her on occasion. Of the modified dinner menus to suit her new diet, of the watchful way her mother looks at her, but never says anything.
She thinks about the staff, carefully selected by her mother, who never balk at Sam's requests. Who are as nonplussed about anything she could get up to, despite knowing full well how difficult she is, how strange she must be compared to other high society "darlings." How many of the staff are actually more similar to Sam than they are to her parents.
Sam blinks. Shenzi has laid a delicate hand on her shoulder.
"MissâŠ" Shenzi bites her lip. Sam distantly notices she's only seen Shenzi make this face once before, when she was thirteen and had stood at the mailbox waiting for her cousin's postcard only to never get it. Shenzi was the one who had to bring her back to her room, she remembers.
Shenzi was probably the one who told her mother, too. Her mother, who wordlessly brought her tea and left when it was clear Sam just wanted space.
"I'm okay." Sam automatically says, even though she's far from it. Different memories overlapping in a way that tries to infect her reality. "I'mâI'll. I'll take care of the greenhouse today."
Shenzi looks like she might object, even though she was the one who refused first. Her hand squeezes Sam's shoulder's once, before letting go.
They stand there together for a moment, breathing. Sam is trying to focus, and it isn't until her fourth deep breath that she realizes that she's copying Shenzi's exaggerated breathing.
Embarrassment floods through her, but it is infinitely a better feeling to drown in than panic and guilt and whatever the hell else Undergrowth, her mom, and her missing cousin brings about in Sam's chest.
"Perhaps I will join you?" Shenzi soothes, as if Sam is a horse ready to bolt. "We can go together."
Sam is more grateful than she ever has been in her entire life. She nods, and they make their way slowly towards the back of the mansion. Sam squares her shoulders and Shenzi lets her take the lead. Her solid presence behind her makes everything easier.
Against all odds, against all the fears, being in the greenhouse isn't so bad.
The flowers greet her like they've been waiting, and Sam is nothing if not a lover of her plants.
She can do this.
She touches the petal of one of the rhododendrons. It seems to stretch towards her, though not quite literally. It seems to hum, as if trying to assuage her of any doubt of whether she belonged here.
Relief floods through her, that at least she'll still have this.
The plants love you, and you love them back.
Undergrowth's voice whispers to her, and she tries not to flinch.
===
It ends in the greenhouse.
Ends might be a strong word for it, itâŠsolidifies in the greenhouse. It grows, like the rest of the plants in residence, until it can't anymore.
Until the dirt starts crackingâuntil Danny and Tucker watch in pure silence for a whole minute, staring at the same plot as she is. Staring at what she's done.
"âŠSo," Tucker finally says, "You're definitely a plant witch."
"I am not." Sam reflexively says, if only because her first instinct is to disagree with Tucker at all times.
She can feel Danny and Tucker exchanging glances from slightly behind her, can feel them twist as they bump into her shoulders when they lean back to do so. Danny on her left, Tucker on her right.
"Hate to say it, SamâŠ" Danny winces, leaning into her as if to ground her. The touch of him brings a shiver down her arm. "But definitely a plant witch."
"Isn't this a good thing?" Tucker nudges in from her other side, sandwiching her as if she'd wither away if they didn't. "Aren't you in love with like, Poison Ivy?"
"Go kiss your imaginary Oracle," Sam grits out weakly, "and leave me alone."
Sam is still shaking at the patch of plants before her. At the patch of dead plants before her.
"They're real I swear it!" Tucker insists, vehemently as he always does, "They're real!"
Danny places his hand on hers, gentle as he always is, squeezing. That, too, electrifies her, like her veins are quivering at his mere touch. "I thinkâŠ"
But he doesn't finish his sentence, because he doesn't know what to think. She doesn't know what to think.
Tuck brings his arm around her shoulders, holding her tight. His touch isn't a jolt to her senses. His touch is comfortingâhis touch is warm and solid, his touch, more than anything, reminds her of how human they all are.
Cold, zinging electricity on her hand. Warm, sooty heat on her shoulder. Damp, earthy softness underneath.
She is a mixture of textures, a livewire connecting from point A to point B to point C and beyond.
She has never killed a plant in her entire life, and now she kneels before a small graveyard of her own making.
She swears she can hear Undergrowth laughing at her.
It's a terrible way to end her last day as a fifteen year old.
If you don't know Zatanna's canon plotline, this might be confusing for you.
I include a blurb about it in the AN on AO3, but if you're okay with not knowing the specifics and just going with the flow, it should be relatively understandable, maybe--good luck!
===
The first lead about her father that comes to Zatanna is delivered through an innocuous beep from the depths of her bag.
She travels light, now.
In the three yearsâpossibly more, if you count time dilationâof traveling she's done, she's become something of an old hat for it now.
She used to parade around in her stage magician outfit, her hero outfit, even if she's not exactly virtuous or rescuing damsels in her travels. But she's helped heroes here and there, chasing leads towards her father, making friends. It made sense, before. Magic made it easy.
Now, in the Arctic of the Far Frozen, she knows better. It's not the first time she's had to tumble through a place without magic, and it's equally not the first time she's had to change into better clothing.
She learned the hard way but she learned.
There should be a doorway around here towards her next leadâthe Realms has always connected but tricky to navigateâbut it'll keep. Her legs are tired, and there's a convenient little cavern she can rest in.
By the time she digs out the source of the beep, a Justice League communicator, she's settled with a little fire and a piece of jerky in her mouth with her belongings slowly piling up around her because of course it's at the bottom of her bag.
But the beep is important, because the beep is from Batman, and Batman apparently has John Constantine in Gotham telling her he found something that might be worth checking out.
Something in her chest jumps, because even though the thing with John ended almost as soon as it began it was important to her. It was pivotal.
It was something she needed desperately just so she could move forward.
Neither of them could claim it was love, but neither of them could claim it wasn't either. These two things are true, and can be true at the same time.
It means something, that they parted and still come together in little ways like this.
She grins at this gift from John, a warmth that spreads from the tips of her toes to the crown of her head, in a different dimension and feels a little bit of that hope that's been clinging to her get a little steadier, and little stronger.
The Far Frozen doesn't feel so far or frozen, in moments like these.
She finishes her jerky, and in the warmth of the fire and this unexpected gift, she types out a reply to change course and set her next destination.
===
It begins with a sword.
More precisely with an elemental by the name of Allura, who is trapped in a sword.
Zatanna frowns, staring down at said sword stuck in a rock in the corner of a dimension she's still not comfortable in despite using it as a sort of magical highway thoroughfare.
It's a simple thing, really. A thoughtless thing.
Zatanna is only 20 years old, and even though she feels much older she is still young. Careless. Straightforward.
Cocky.
Because she has contacts now. Established heroes who call her to ask about magic. Colleagues who hum, impressed by how easily she wields her magic, how much she has, how smart she is with it.
So she spells a question and considers it irrefutable, considers herself indomitable.
Llet em touba arataZ.
But of course, it is only four words.
Four words do not make an unbreakable chainâthey dont even make a wall.
Four words make a door with a welcome mat.
I knew your Father, Allura had said. Free me and I can help you find him!
And like a fool Zatanna had taken it as gospel.
She had spelled for information about her father, but she had not spelled for truth.
Batman would berate her for this, surely.
Flimsy, rickety, unlockedâa door with a fucking welcome mat.
Stupid. Young. Cocky.
"Oh, to be young again!" Allura breathes through Zatanna's lungs, "Oh, to be free."
And Zatanna, trapped in her own skin, can only watch as Allura takes her body for a joy ride.
===
It ends with a long overdue hug between father and daughter.
The curtain falls and the finale is loud and joyous and tinged with smoke.
Her father's arms are just as comforting as she remembers, and the amount of sheer exhaustion and relief flooding through her as she cries and cries and cries is insurmountable.
It's all she can do to remember to breathe, to remind herself that this is real, that it all did turn out okay.
A brightly lit stage and a crowd of cheers had nothing on a hug from her father.
In the end, it is as simple as it is anticlimactic:
There is a curse, and a ritual, and heroic friends, and of courseâan epic battle with an evil twin as the bad guy. Well, there is a Bad Allura just as there is a Good Allura, and Zatanna's not sure if they are actually twins or even sisters but that is how they identified themselves so who is Zatanna to question it beyond that?
Bad Allura is being taken into custody after un-cursing her father thanks to Good Allura and the Justice League has plans to keep her out of trouble, so Zatanna lets it all go in the safety of her father's chest. The tears, the snot, the fucking sobs.
Thank fucking God for Batman.
If it weren't for him, she'd still be stuck backseat driver to her own body and her father would have beenâ
But she can't focus on that now. She can't.
All she can do is remember to breathe until she falls asleep, just like that, crying into her father's hug.
===
It isn't until she's at a bar, having a celebratory drink with John that reality comes crashing back down.
It's been a couple months since things have gotten back to normal, her and her father beginning to book shows again and returning back to normalcy on the road.
"Did you hear about Amity Park?" A stranger stage whispers to the bartender two seats down from her.
It doesn't register, at first. John is chuckling into his drink beside her and despite it all the gravel of it brings a little shiver down her spine.
"That cursed little podunk town?" Another patron asks, confused. "What about it?"
John leans in, tobacco and musk a comfort to her senses. Memories start to flood her body, and she can't help but relax just a little.
"A portal's been ripped open, hasn't it?" The bartender hums, wiping up a little spill on the counter. "A miracle that nobody died in the process, what with the Realms bein' involved."
At this, she and John meet eyes. There's lust there, sure, but there's also a mutual sort of curiosity. Realms business always piques the curiosity of their kind.
"No, noâwell. Yes. There has been, but that's not what I'm talking about." The first patron shakes their head, leaning in closer. "I hear a witch has claimed the town!"
"So?" The bartender shrugs. "There's a protector spirit, wouldn't be unusual for a witch or two to take up space nearby."
"You don't understandâ" The patron insists again, slapping the bar in emphasis. "She's a white witch."
"A white witch?" The second patron yelps, overtly loud now. "In that ghost town?!"
The bartender whistles. "A white witch claiming a Realms infected city? How is she still sane?"
"I don't know!" The first patron throws their hands up, somewhat elated. "That's what makes it interesting, no? And she's just a child."
"I heard she's well in her middle age." A third patron cuts in, to which pandemonium starts to break out. Other patrons begin to chime in, but it's useless to take those into account. Gossip sessions such as these are never reliable when it's a large groupâyou can never really know who is actually contributing, who is playing telephone, and who is just making stuff up.
She and John quickly pay their tab just to get away from the sudden crowd.
"A white witch in Amity Park, eh?" John mutters, shaking his head as he lights a cigarette once they're outside the bar. "Insanity."
Zatanna opens her mouth to answer, only to falter. Because she remembers now, recognizes this name.
The small town that Aunt Pam decided to move to, all those years ago.
Suddenly, it all comes rushing back to her:
It's the end of July, and Sam's birthday is next month.
Sam, whom she hasn't been able to send postcards to for years now.
Sam, her one and only cousin.
Sam, who was only 12 the last time she saw her.
Sam, who may or may not be magic.
A knuckle lightly tips her chin, and she blinks up into the concerned eyes of John Constantine.
John's brow furrows as he asks her in a low voice, "You alright there, 'luv?"
"My cousin," Zatanna croaks, suddenly overwhelmed with guilt and fear, "My baby cousin might be the white witch."
Wake up girlies, new AU just dropped! Can be found on AO3 too!
After Danny becomes Phantom, after Undergrowth, Sam's life takes a decidedly more magical turn. Not that she knows that at first, considering she doesn't have someone showing up to kindly inform her she's a witch.
That is, until her cousin Zatanna shows up in Amity Park after disappearing for four years.
===
Sam is distantly aware of her family's idea of success.
Her parents coasted on the money from being the legacy of a world-changing household invention, but they were socialites, through and through.
High society is as mercurial as the sea could be and her parents were sharks in the water.
They made their money move, like water, like rain, like rivers. Money talks, and the Mansons gave speeches.
No matter how much Sam hated it, her parents were good at it. They were made for it.
Sam was made from dirt, from the energies of Mother Earth, who gave back when tendered by the Universe.
Sam was decidedly not made for the glam and glitz of high society.
She knew it in her bones, down to the roots of her, and it was why she did the only thing she could think of: she went goth.
There were, after all, no high society goths on the scene.
At first it was just an abject disdain for what her parents did, for what her mother wanted her to be.
The sparkles were too bright, the laughs too fake and loud, the politics too much of a headache for Sam to even want to consider. She could, in honesty, she could, she just didn't want to.
And at 8 years old, that was all that mattered in the world. She didn't want to, so she didn't. She avoided sparkles like the plague, threw tantrums and screamed and yelled.
She learned about goths from her older cousin, Zatanna. A role model that Sam rarely ever got to visit, someone who was glam and glitz, but not high society about it.
Someone who didn't perform to navigate the complex systems of the Rich and OrneryâZatanna was someone who performed to be seen.
Someone who performed to be herself, to smile and say to the world smile back, that's all I need, smile back!
It was her cousin's greatest trick, making Sam smile.
Almost six years older than her and always on the go, it's a minor miracle Zatanna even met her with Uncle Gio always performing on the road. But they did and Sam has never been more grateful to have her cousin during some of the harder parts of being a high society kid.
Like when she was ten, and her mother was whisper-yelling something with Uncle Gio down the hall. They had just come home from a disastrous gala where Sam couldn't keep her temper and became a mocking point for the other rich families to poke and prod at. More than usual, anywayâmore than the typical she's just different; more because now, now it's like it was obvious a goth girl would ruin a gala instead of justâŠexisting on a different plane.
It wasn't hard to know that the subject of the fight was her.
"Don't take it to heart," Zatanna had said then, sitting on the floor beside her as Sam sniffled into her knees in anger, "take it to the stage."
But Sam's never been a performer, never been a star like her cousin so clearly was. She always preferred the daylight than the glittering lights of chandeliers. She preferred fresh air and sunny patches of green over too large rooms lit softly in the night.
Greenhouses, over galas.
She angrily wiped at her face, trying to keep her voice low when she explained this to her cousin.
"Then plant it deep." Zatanna had shrugged, smiling as she leaned over to carefully pull something from behind Sam's ear: a bright red rose. "Prune the unnecessary parts, tender the soft parts and grow deadly."
She offered the flower, and Sam took it delightedly. When she smelled it, it smelled fresh. Like it had just bloomed for her for this one single trick. Her cousin's eyes softened, the sheen of her eyes glinting the way tree leaves rustle in the dredges of Summer.
"You don't have to play their game," Zatanna whispered, just for them, gently bumping Sam's chin up with the crook of her finger. "But that doesn't mean you can't weather the storm and come out the other end more vibrant than any other."
She remembered, then, how Zatanna had smoothed over the ruffled feathers of Sam's mistake earlier that night by making roses just like the one in her hand pop into existence in clouds of colorful smoke. She remembered in particular when Zachary Newman, the reason Sam had lost her temper, had grabbed the rose that appeared in front of him and cried out at sharp indents of thorns.
And it felt like she understood what her cousin was trying to say, even if only by the feel of her words.
"Bloom, goth girl," Zatanna whispered, a show just for the two of them lit by the moon, "thorns and all."
Sam remembers clutching that rose to her chest, remembers the distant whisper-yelling of her mom, remembers Zatanna leaning heavier into her side like comfort, the smell of roses flooding her system like it had no idea what else it could do.
Sam kept those words buried deep within the marrow of her bones, because she wanted to be the kind of flower Zatanna would admire. She wanted to be the rose that she pulled from behind an ear, wanted to be the petals that scattered like confetti in the spotlight, wanted to bloom and make her cousin proud.
It helped more than she could say, more than she could handle sometimes, when she was called to perform.
When she could feel her mom observing her, eying the minutiae of Sam's every movement and breath. Searching for something, but never saying what.
She was never going to be the perfect daughter, nor did she ever want toâbeing goth was a rebellion until it wasn't anymore. But some part of her still rankled. Some part of her still wanted to play nice, even if her dresses were all black and purple and her accessories were sharp and pointed instead of shimmering and expensive.
She wanted to be differentâthat didn't mean she wanted to be a failure.
And then Sam turned twelve, and they moved to Amity Park.
A lot of things changed then.
She already didn't have that many friends in high society, and while she did have a small group of other outcasts she could call friends, they weren't the type to keep correspondence with someone who left.
It meant Sam only had her cousin, Zatanna, who would send her postcards from her shows on the road.
Sam has an entire collection of them, from all over the world. Sometimes, trinkets would be included, sometimes a flower would pop out from seemingly nowhere.
Sometimes, Zatanna would personally deliver them. Those times were her favorite.
They were sporadic in nature, but there was always one constant: Zatanna would always send a postcard on Sam's birthday.
This postcard, the last one to arrive at the old house for her twelfth birthday, was the most important one; It was the one that kept her company in their big, obnoxious Mansion, located in this new town, with nobody she knew but her parents.
Her room still echoed, with nothing yet on the walls, no rugs unpacked, just boxes and boxes that she made sure the servants wouldn't open and rearrange for her.
She sat on the floor to her bedroom and tried not to cry, clutching the postcard to her chest and trying her damnedest not to wrinkle it.
Happy Birthday, to the most magical Manson I know. You got this, goth girl! -Z
That postcard bolstered her through unpacking her room, with the scent of Jasmine wafting through the air and the melodious sounds of some garage band from her previous cityâfriends of friends of classmates who were just starting out.
Two days later, Sam only has one final thing to unpack.
She had left a wall blank and free of furniture on purpose, a clear space that her mother had made the painters set up when they painted Sam's room dark purpleâa wall covered in expensive cork top to bottom just like her previous room, framed in a somewhat understated black filigree trim.
Her parents knew how important this was, even through all the differences and screaming matches and pleading, they would never take this one thing away.
The night before she is set to go to school, Sam spends most of it pinning up all the post cards from her cousin with a heavy tin of push pins surrounded by the smell of incense. Pictures of her old friends, of her family, band posters and even ripped out pages of poetry she's particularly proud of, cover a small expanse of the wall.
It's room for growth.
She doesn't know, at this point, that Zatanna's most recent postcard is more important than she thinks it is. She doesn't realize that it's the most important and will stay the most important.
She can't, not for four more years when finally, finallyâthe next postcard from her cousin arrives.
It's late, and she should be some kind of mad about it. Four years too late. Or maybe it's on time.
She should be kicking and screaming or scoffing and throwing it away, but her fingers are stuck.
The postcard is of a train station, from some place called Utrecht Station. Sam heavily suspects it's European, but can't actually recall where this place might be.
It looks like one of those old timey photos, taken from the street where you can see all the windows of the station curving in black and white tableau due to the reflections of the light, simplified from the older generation of photography. All the people in it are walking briskly, like they have a destination or, more probably, a train to catch. They dress like old timey mobsters, actually. The kind that Tucker likes to mimic the accent of in those bank robbing movies.
She stares a little too long at it, mind unhurriedly processing in contrast to the busy bodies in the photo. She hasn't even flipped it over, doesn't fully know for sure who it's from butâbut who else could it be?
She only has two friends, and she left both of them mere minutes ago after they planned a whole dinner and show for her at the local slam poetry night. Is planning to see them tomorrow morning before class. Bubba always uses those crisp, square envelopes, never postcards.
Feeling ridiculous, she flips it over to confirm it is who she thinks it's from.
The confirmation is quick, but only leaves her with more questions than answers.
Happy 16th Birthday. I'm sorry. I'll see you soon. -Z
The day Zatanna turns eighteen, she learns what it truly means to lose a parent.
This is ironic, considering she lost her mother before she could form proper memories. This should be common knowledge for herâshould be innate even.
Is it better or worse when she means lost literally?
She's always thought this way of phrasing was strange; you don't lose someone or something to Death. Like life is a game, and Death is your opponent.
Death is inevitable.
How can you be lost when you know the exact coordinates of a grave? When the human body fits in a six foot dirt pit and the memory of a soul can be condensed down to a block of stone with a name and dates on it?
But she lost her mother. Dead or alive, she's out there somewhere that Zatanna cannot locate and now her father has suffered the same fate. Except it's different now: she doesn't know her mother beyond the confines of photos stored in old albums, the breath between stories told to her like bedtime lullabies, the dreams her brain conjures up at night.
But she knows her father. She knows the breadth of himâthe scent and habits and ticks. She knows the cadence of his speech, the feel of his hand ruffling her hair, the feel of the soft forehead kisses he gives when she cries, the weight of his I'm proud of you, the security of being cradled in his arms like a child no matter how old she gets, the scrunch of his brow when she scolds him on his diet.
Her mother's circumstances aside, how could she lose her father? It seems unfathomable. He's a grown ass man, and he loves her, and they have a show that must always continue.
But just as Death cares not for schedules and promises, Reality is always blunt and honest: her father is missing and Zatanna feels the ache of it like she's been cored out from her gut. She feels it in the back of her teeth as she smiles on stage, and she feels it when she's sitting backstage in the dark and trying to breathe.
In the end, Zatanna can't even go through a second show without him. Thankfully, it isn't hard to simply cancel the rest of the tour and disappear. It's not like they ever had a concrete scheduleânot like they do in the summers, doing shows in Vegas.
Zatanna, mostly, wants to scream.
She embarks on a questing trip to find her dad, instead.
It turns out to beâŠa lot more convoluted than she ever thought it would be.
===
Before Sam turns thirteen, she goes through puberty.
Well, she thinks it's puberty anyway. Your body and it's natural changes, and all that. Birds and Bees? Sam doesn't really care.
Meat starts to sit heavy in her gut. Just looking at it makes her want to puke. Her breasts haven't changed but she's grown a couple inches, and somehow the aches are on her joints and in her gut.
Taneisha brings an assortment of meat for lunchâand worst of all beef jerky to class, munching on it at all times, and the smell of it bothers Sam. Danny brings something called onigiri for lunch, rice balls with an assortment of fillings that his sister made for him. Somehow, Sam can still smell the salmon and tuna even with the overpowering scent of mayo and sriracha mixed in.
It makes lunch a terrible ordeal, seemingly out of nowhere.
She finds her only reprieve in the garlic steamed vegetables Chef makes for the table at home.
Her mom notices, because her mom notices too much.
Vegetables, tofu, pastas and salads start becoming more prominent at the table.
Sam doesn't say thank you.
Her mom doesn't mention it. Her dad continues to chatter quietly to fill the space.
It's a long year of trial and error.
Her skin itches like the very air around her prickles at her skin, her two best friends are childhood friends who may or may not be in love with each other, her mom won't say anything of substance, and the roots of her hair needs to be dyed black again.
But her veins feel full and she isn't yelling at her mom as much and Danny thinks the bits of blonde that poke out make her look more goth, actually, and she's taller than most of the girls in her class and it makes her feel smug.
There's an energy that thrums under Sam's skin, a restlessness that crawls into the atmosphere, that huffs out in foggy breathes of cold crisp morning air.
Something is wrong with her. Is this normal?
It starts to rankle when she blinks awake to find herself in her yard, a fistful of grass in one hand and the taste of dirt on her tongue.
What the hell is she doing?
She can't stomach meat, she can't stomach fish.
She used to love sushi, and now she's eating fucking grass.
She throws herself into researchâfinds an article about slaughter houses, and realizes that life isn't something to take for grantedâthat privilege is real, and frankly she should be paying more attention.
Danny's dad is Japanese, and his half-Asian features make him more feminine than he wants to be. Taneisha's a black woman in a white man's world. And the patriarchy is a shit place to be when you're a goth girl, even if she's white and rich.
Puberty fucking sucks, and eating meat is a sign of genocide.
She starts to tell everyone she's vegan. She determinedly eats salad, talks about the treatment of cows and chickens and pigs to anyone who will listen.
Her dad gets a greenhouse built, her mom creating a sanctuary of exotic flowers and expensive herbs in it.
Sam and her mom share custody of it, in a sense. She determinedly keeps dirt in her hand and not her fucking mouth, and sometimes her mom makes salves for the itch under her skin. Sometimes her mom makes perfumes, or lotions, or even dyes that Sam dips her fingers into to turn the tips of them a sort of blackish purple.
She doesn't think about her mom giving her salves without Sam telling her anything. She doesn't think about the perfumes and lotions she sneaks back into her parent's bathroom. She doesn't think about her dad, carefully patting her mom's hand at the dinner table when her mom won't stop staring at Sam's fingers.
She doesn't think about the perfumes and lotions not showing up on her vanity anymore.
She gets her shit together.
She goes to school, eats her vegan lunch, and tries to tell herself it's enough.
Summer comes and goes in a blur.
Danny sheepishly shows them his crazy house, shields them from his borderline mad scientist parents as best he can, introduces them to his sister Jazz.
Taneisha tells them she's not a she anymore. Taneisha tells them she's never been a she. Taneisha tells them she's a he.
Taneisha whispers he likes the name his mother gave him, but can't hold it anymore. Taneisha's voice cracks about how he doesn't know how to tell his family. Taneisha warbles shakily about how he thought he was a lesbian, which would have somehow been easier to handle than this. Taneisha cries, and it's the first time Sam's ever seem him cry.
Danny, panicked and more of a crybaby than any of them, frantically says boys don't cry, don't cry!
Sam, angry at the world and the tearsânot at Taneisha, but of the emotions that overwhelm himâhisses that boys can cry whenever they want, stop spreading toxic masculinity dummy!
Taneisha's laugh shatters around them but they get through it.
They sit in a huddle in Danny's room and look up boy names until Taneisha isn't Taneisha anymore.
The end of the Summer is cresting, and Sam and Danny meet Tucker for the first time.
You're my best friends in the whole world. Tucker says, his hand in hers and Danny's completing a circuit that zings through her.
And suddenly she's not quite so alone anymore. It's not all better, she still hasn't told them about herâŠeverything, and she obviously doesn't belong to them the way they belong to her, but it's enough.
It's enough, for now.
She goes home, does not eat the fucking grass, and smiles a feral smile.
Zatanna is nineteen when she falls into bed with John Constantine.
Though, calling it a bed would be generous. It was more of a sofa, with lots of cushions and very little self respect.
But it was nice, to forget the world for a moment. To narrow it all down to skin and flesh and heat and whatever the hell makes up John Constantine on a molecular and mystical level.
It's why she kept coming back the House of Mysteries, why she risks time dilation whenever she slips between dimensions.
She's had a hell of a year and she deserves this, she tells herselfâeven as a small voice in the back of her mind still whispers judgmentally about seeking carnal pleasures when her father is still out there, somewhere.
But that voice is the same voice that sneers at her in the middle of the nightâthe same voice that asks her what if Dad disappeared on purpose, because of you? Isn't that what Mom did?
Raspy kisses lave upon her neck, John's hands traveling up and down her body, bringing her thoughts to heel. She bites at the nearest piece of skin nearby, and the groan she gets in return is both gratifying and grounding.
Useless thoughts have no right to swirl around in her head. She's met heroes and gone on adventures with new hero friends and whilst she still hasn't found her father, her network has grown exponentially. She has access to rumors, to magic, to an organization that keeps getting more and more influential the more heroes join it: The Justice League.
Already, she's heard whispers of at least her father's living status. He's out there somewhere and it's better than what her father could glean from her mother's disappearance.
To the world at large, her mother is dead. To her and her father, her mother is missing.
It helps, knowing that the situation with her father is different in some minute way.
It helps, because this means there's hope.
What it doesn't help is answer Zatanna's questions: Why he disappeared in the first place, why he won't contact her, won't even send a postcard.
This stray thought catches on the ridges of her teeth, mind wandering as her body goes numb again.
She thinks about her cousin, Sam, thinks about how the days have blurred together and she can't quite remember if she sent a postcard to her this year. Zatanna's own birthday passed without her knowledge, but surely Sam's birthday hasn't passed yet?
Aunt Pam had moved them to some small town, hadn't she? Zatanna will have to look for it. Perhaps rework a spell.
Strong hands grip her thighs, spread her decadently as a line of heat gently lays upon her like a blanket, skin on skin on skin.
"You with me, 'luv?" John whispers into the crook of her shoulder and neck. The soft kiss he punctuates the question with is hesitant, checking in.
"I'm here, John." Zatanna rasps, thoughts scattering, dissolving into nothing but flesh again, blissful as the heat of his lips dissipates and she tries not to let it.
"Still okay?" John's hands stop wandering, either seeing her distraction or actually worried, which won't do at all.
She wraps her arms around his neck, clutches at him with her legs.
She melts away, thoughtlessly, carelessly, buoyantly.
She doesn't need to worry right now. She doesn't need to think.
She just needs to be here.
She kisses him, and he kisses her back, and that's all she can carry for the moment.
Tomorrowâtomorrow, she'll pick the rest of it back up.
But that is for tomorrow.
===
Danny dies on a muggy Summer day, just before Sam's fourteenth birthday.
Sam's heart won't stop fucking beating on her chest like it's trying to rip out of her for the entirety of the remaining Summer.
The unnameable thing under her skin threatens to swallow her in a maw covered in needles and pins, but she cannot fucking think about it.
Puberty does not last that fucking long. Puberty does not make you want to crawl out of your own skin, does not make you feel like the marrow in your bones are sucked dry, does not make your head spacey and irritable, does not make you eat fucking grass.
She's ultra recyclo vegetarian and it is unfortunately the best decision of her life, and she can't fucking think about it because she saw her best friend die, and being near him feels electric.
She wants to get closer, but doesn't want to touch.
She blames it on hormones.
Come on, Danny.
Sam stomps into the greenhouse, breathes heavy like anvils and skin burning like there are a million tiny brands sizzling on her pores.
A Ghost Zone?
Her arms are covered in dirt, she's sweating and she's surrounded by plants. The soil is damp and the coolness of it, the soft almost melty, almost fluffy cadence of it sinks into her as she digs and digs and digs.
Arenât you curious?
The greenhouse is technicolor, and the air is soft and stark like petals and pollen. Her knees make indents in the potting soil, she's a fucking messâher skirt and crop top are covered in dirt and petals and roots, her doc martens are smeared with mud, and she feels wild and manic and unreal.
You gotta check it out.
Famous fucking last words.
She doesn't how long it takes for her to feel normal again, but eventually all of the buzzing on her skin drains out of her. Her breath steams out of her like locomotion, but she's finally on solid ground. Pun not intended.
She's elbow deep in potting soil, the humid air of the greenhouse coddles her, and her body is thrumming with something she doesn't want to name.
Danny is alive. Danny is alive, and that's all she needs to know. She will not look a gift horse in the mouth.
She tries not to feel uprooted when she stands up.
She fails.
She stares at the greenhouse flowers, distantly wondering when the adrenaline will crash.
Every blink she makes flashes the same images in her head, on rotation. Danny's body, jolting when he put his hand on the wallâon the button that wasn't supposed to be there. Danny falling to his knees, crashing to the floor. Danny not moving, not breathing, the sudden absence of noise.
Danny's scream echoes in the space between her ears, short, agonizing, cut off like a rose bring pruned.
Her own roses are vibrant, red, red, red.
It's a boon, she's never hated green until now, and everything feels overwhelming.
I'm okay.
Danny's voice has always had that sort of lilt to it, something about the consonants or maybe the vowels. He doesn't have an accent like Jack does, is as American as she or Tucker are, but his consonants are softer, somehow.
I'm okayâSam, Tuck, I'm okay.
She clings to this memory the most, Danny blinking his eyes open with a groan and panicking at the sight of his two best friends crying, distraught.
Danny still doesn't know what to do in the face of tears, and that more than anything had calmed both of them down. Helpless laughter had bubbled up between her and Tuck, a new kind of understanding they had trouble finding after Tucker transitioned.
Not because Sam had a problem with Tucker being a guy, but because it was another thing that separated her from the group nowâthat she was the only girl.
She still hasn't told them about her parents. She's still scared.
Almost losing Danny makes her want to be brave. She's already in deep, and she can'tâ
She furiously wipes her eyes, tracking dirt all over her face and somehow it makes her stronger.
The smell of leaves, of pollen, of soil, it all dives deep into her as she takes a bolstering breath.
She clenches her fists, feels the trace of pebbles between the spaces of her knuckles, and decides that it's far too late to still be scared.
It's been too late.
After school starts, she'll invite them over. They'll play bowling, and she'llâshe'll stand her ground if they change their attitudes.
They won't, some part of her knows, hopes, but if they doâ
She closes her eyes. Takes another breath.
Danny's body on the ground, Tucker's scream overlapping with hers, the heat of their bodies as they held each other afterwards, the crackle of something as she felt Danny alive.
She opens her eyes, sears the image of the bright colors of the greenhouse into her brain, and leaves.
Life as the sort of sidekick to a superhero is as exciting as it is annoying as hell.
Something about Danny is driving Sam crazy, which makes her really mad.
Every little touch makes her want to get closer and farther away.
The fake out make outs don't exactly help either.
Sam can only calm down when she eats, can only direct her ardor towards supporting Danny in being a hero, invests all of her energy in the green house, she feels everything and feels nothing.
Everything is itchy, petty squabbles of teenagedom feel monumental, her moods are erratic, she's self righteous with Danny's new responsibilities, and she and Tucker fight like cats and dogs.
In short: Sam is a heinous bitch.
This is nothing to be surprised about, most teenagers are assholes, hormones and puberty and all that. It's not even all the time, just little moments here or there.
But Sam doesn't feel like herself.
She feels uprooted, like she's outgrown the pot she's been planted in, where the pavement starts to crack and weeds start to sprout.
She tries to change the lunch menu, she hates and loves the feel of Danny's mouth on hers, Tucker's voice gets grating even though she cares about him and his opinionsâshe does she does she does.
She tells them about her family, finally, and it's good, it's great. It's supposed to make things better, smooth over the rough edges and it does, but not for long.
Not for long at all.
There's something incandescently unfair in the way she feels so close to her friends and so far at the same time, like her life is spiraling out of control but at least she's not so fucking alone.
The ghosts, at least, are easy. The ghosts are good. The ghosts give her an outlet, even if she feels like a dick making Danny deal with them like a fucking weapon.
The ghosts give her a purpose, an enemy.
And then she wishes she never met Danny or Tucker.
This is the first crack in her facade.
Being the only one there, being the one to set the dials, being the one to kill Danny again, it ruins her on a molecular level.
It cracks something fundamental inside her that she doesn't think she can fully recover from.
Because this isn't herâthis isn't who she wants to be.
But some part of her begs her to do something, begs her to fix the only things that have made sense in her world for the past yearâbegs her to get back to normalcy even if that means ghost fighting.
Even if that means Danny dying again, means her skin has to burn in the wake of the portal ripping itself open again.
She tries not to feel flayed, and utterly fucking fails.
The second crack, the pivotal one, the life changing one that splits her into pieces, happens when she gets swallowed by the Green.
She doesn't really remember much of her time in Undergrowth's hold, doesn't really remember the things she didâjust like everyone else in town she remembered seeing Undergrowth, remembered getting surrounded, and thenâŠnothing.
Just blinking awake to see Danny, concern writ all over his face, giving her a tiny crystal made from his new ice powers and smiling at her in a way that made it all seemâŠtrivial. Because she was back, they were all back, and nobody else remembered and Danny said it was fine so why should it matter?
So it didn't.
Until it did.
===
It starts with the dreams.
They're nothing at first, comforting even. Like being nestled.
They're not so bad, in all honesty. They're not good, but they're notâŠbad.
They're disturbing only in the fact that they aren't disturbing.
She's surrounded by darkness and the familiar thumping of her own heartbeat.
The dreams are just that, at first. Just her being cradled.
It's nothing. It's simultaneously less than nothing and more than nothingâher heartbeat and the darkness.
Small snatches in the vast landscape of her mind in REM.
It's when she hears voices that things take a turn.
Not voices. A voice. The voice.
Undergrowth.
She doesn't know it's his voice definitively for a while, waking from these dreams like a haze is still framing her vision.
She doesn't even remember what the voice says at first. Too tangled up like vines around her throat, her eyes, her ears.
And then one day she gasps awake with Undergrowth's humming, the words yes, yes you'll do, blooming in her head.
She avoids the greenhouse that specific day, asking Shenzi, one of the gardeners, to tend to it in her stead.
Shenzi gives her a long look for it, all the of staff employed by the Mansons know to steer clear of it beyond maintaining the glass and the temperature, but she does it and that's all Sam cares about. Shenzi is thorough and good with her hands, and she takes absolutely no shit from Samâof course Sam can trust her.
It isn't until Shenzi, in the aforementioned act of taking absolutely no shit from Sam, refuses Sam's request that she realizes things have begun to rot.
"Sorry?" Sam blinks up at the woman.
"I said," Shenzi, in that half-lidded calm stare of hers, "that I will not be able to abide by your request, Miss Sam."
"Whyâ" Sam, bewildered, takes a moment with a stutter to her breath. "Why not?"
"Because you love that greenhouse," Shenzi slowly informs her, in the same way she had to explain to a nine year old Sam that even though poison ivy was a good deterrent to intruders it would not be a pleasant plant for the gardeners to keep around the Mansion, "you yearn for it, but you have not stepped foot in it for three weeks."
That. Can't be true. Can it?
But Shenzi would never lie, and more importantly, Sam cannot recall the last time she was in the greenhouse.
She realizes then that Undergrowth's voice has been haunting her, no pun intended.
Innocuous moments plagued by snatches of memory. Snippets of selfish violence, of harsh encouragements and rumbling satisfaction.
It's the questions that have ruined her. The cooing and, worst of all, how his words make her feel.
Do you feel the power?
She did. She does. Power beyond her imagination, flowing through her veins like root systems being flash flooded.
Aren't you thankful? Aren't you proud?
She never would have tasted this kind of power without him, she realizes. She was never meant to take so much when she was only supposed to be a caretaker. She was only supposed to be his proxy, and Mother.
Doesn't it feel good, to take? To grow them? Isn't it lovely?
Question upon question that she doesn't really know the answer to, or does and doesn't want to know the answer to. Always yes and no at the same time in equal measure, when she it should have just been no.
Do you not love them?
And she did. She really didâ
Is it not love to give and give and give? Is it not care?
And it wasn't, it isn't. She's taking in equal measure, she was smothering themâ
Is it not a mother's way? To nurture? To let roam free? To feel the flush of Spring?
Not when it overruns the city. Not when flowers weren't meant to be this big, not when Nature's response has never been growth in size, but growth in numbersâfields of flowers, the next generation, over and over, life cycles meant to be short and blossoming like fireworks.
Flashes of giant vines, of stems being stretched to the limit and beyond, of giant flowering carnivorous heads of plants that hungered plague her when she blinks.
Nature's response was never bigger. Nature's response was always more. Nature's response was always share.
She thinks of her own mother, of the finger dyes and the salves her mother still leaves her on occasion. Of the modified dinner menus to suit her new diet, of the watchful way her mother looks at her, but never says anything.
She thinks about the staff, carefully selected by her mother, who never balk at Sam's requests. Who are as nonplussed about anything she could get up to, despite knowing full well how difficult she is, how strange she must be compared to other high society "darlings." How many of the staff are actually more similar to Sam than they are to her parents.
Sam blinks. Shenzi has laid a delicate hand on her shoulder.
"MissâŠ" Shenzi bites her lip. Sam distantly notices she's only seen Shenzi make this face once before, when she was thirteen and had stood at the mailbox waiting for her cousin's postcard only to never get it. Shenzi was the one who had to bring her back to her room, she remembers.
Shenzi was probably the one who told her mother, too. Her mother, who wordlessly brought her tea and left when it was clear Sam just wanted space.
"I'm okay." Sam automatically says, even though she's far from it. Different memories overlapping in a way that tries to infect her reality. "I'mâI'll. I'll take care of the greenhouse today."
Shenzi looks like she might object, even though she was the one who refused first. Her hand squeezes Sam's shoulder's once, before letting go.
They stand there together for a moment, breathing. Sam is trying to focus, and it isn't until her fourth deep breath that she realizes that she's copying Shenzi's exaggerated breathing.
Embarrassment floods through her, but it is infinitely a better feeling to drown in than panic and guilt and whatever the hell else Undergrowth, her mom, and her missing cousin brings about in Sam's chest.
"Perhaps I will join you?" Shenzi soothes, as if Sam is a horse ready to bolt. "We can go together."
Sam is more grateful than she ever has been in her entire life. She nods, and they make their way slowly towards the back of the mansion. Sam squares her shoulders and Shenzi lets her take the lead. Her solid presence behind her makes everything easier.
Against all odds, against all the fears, being in the greenhouse isn't so bad.
The flowers greet her like they've been waiting, and Sam is nothing if not a lover of her plants.
She can do this.
She touches the petal of one of the rhododendrons. It seems to stretch towards her, though not quite literally. It seems to hum, as if trying to assuage her of any doubt of whether she belonged here.
Relief floods through her, that at least she'll still have this.
The plants love you, and you love them back.
Undergrowth's voice whispers to her, and she tries not to flinch.
===
It ends in the greenhouse.
Ends might be a strong word for it, itâŠsolidifies in the greenhouse. It grows, like the rest of the plants in residence, until it can't anymore.
Until the dirt starts crackingâuntil Danny and Tucker watch in pure silence for a whole minute, staring at the same plot as she is. Staring at what she's done.
"âŠSo," Tucker finally says, "You're definitely a plant witch."
"I am not." Sam reflexively says, if only because her first instinct is to disagree with Tucker at all times.
She can feel Danny and Tucker exchanging glances from slightly behind her, can feel them twist as they bump into her shoulders when they lean back to do so. Danny on her left, Tucker on her right.
"Hate to say it, SamâŠ" Danny winces, leaning into her as if to ground her. The touch of him brings a shiver down her arm. "But definitely a plant witch."
"Isn't this a good thing?" Tucker nudges in from her other side, sandwiching her as if she'd wither away if they didn't. "Aren't you in love with like, Poison Ivy?"
"Go kiss your imaginary Oracle," Sam grits out weakly, "and leave me alone."
Sam is still shaking at the patch of plants before her. At the patch of dead plants before her.
"They're real I swear it!" Tucker insists, vehemently as he always does, "They're real!"
Danny places his hand on hers, gentle as he always is, squeezing. That, too, electrifies her, like her veins are quivering at his mere touch. "I thinkâŠ"
But he doesn't finish his sentence, because he doesn't know what to think. She doesn't know what to think.
Tuck brings his arm around her shoulders, holding her tight. His touch isn't a jolt to her senses. His touch is comfortingâhis touch is warm and solid, his touch, more than anything, reminds her of how human they all are.
Cold, zinging electricity on her hand. Warm, sooty heat on her shoulder. Damp, earthy softness underneath.
She is a mixture of textures, a livewire connecting from point A to point B to point C and beyond.
She has never killed a plant in her entire life, and now she kneels before a small graveyard of her own making.
She swears she can hear Undergrowth laughing at her.
It's a terrible way to end her last day as a fifteen year old.
Wake up girlies, new AU just dropped! Can be found on AO3 too!
After Danny becomes Phantom, after Undergrowth, Sam's life takes a decidedly more magical turn. Not that she knows that at first, considering she doesn't have someone showing up to kindly inform her she's a witch.
That is, until her cousin Zatanna shows up in Amity Park after disappearing for four years.
===
Sam is distantly aware of her family's idea of success.
Her parents coasted on the money from being the legacy of a world-changing household invention, but they were socialites, through and through.
High society is as mercurial as the sea could be and her parents were sharks in the water.
They made their money move, like water, like rain, like rivers. Money talks, and the Mansons gave speeches.
No matter how much Sam hated it, her parents were good at it. They were made for it.
Sam was made from dirt, from the energies of Mother Earth, who gave back when tendered by the Universe.
Sam was decidedly not made for the glam and glitz of high society.
She knew it in her bones, down to the roots of her, and it was why she did the only thing she could think of: she went goth.
There were, after all, no high society goths on the scene.
At first it was just an abject disdain for what her parents did, for what her mother wanted her to be.
The sparkles were too bright, the laughs too fake and loud, the politics too much of a headache for Sam to even want to consider. She could, in honesty, she could, she just didn't want to.
And at 8 years old, that was all that mattered in the world. She didn't want to, so she didn't. She avoided sparkles like the plague, threw tantrums and screamed and yelled.
She learned about goths from her older cousin, Zatanna. A role model that Sam rarely ever got to visit, someone who was glam and glitz, but not high society about it.
Someone who didn't perform to navigate the complex systems of the Rich and OrneryâZatanna was someone who performed to be seen.
Someone who performed to be herself, to smile and say to the world smile back, that's all I need, smile back!
It was her cousin's greatest trick, making Sam smile.
Almost six years older than her and always on the go, it's a minor miracle Zatanna even met her with Uncle Gio always performing on the road. But they did and Sam has never been more grateful to have her cousin during some of the harder parts of being a high society kid.
Like when she was ten, and her mother was whisper-yelling something with Uncle Gio down the hall. They had just come home from a disastrous gala where Sam couldn't keep her temper and became a mocking point for the other rich families to poke and prod at. More than usual, anywayâmore than the typical she's just different; more because now, now it's like it was obvious a goth girl would ruin a gala instead of justâŠexisting on a different plane.
It wasn't hard to know that the subject of the fight was her.
"Don't take it to heart," Zatanna had said then, sitting on the floor beside her as Sam sniffled into her knees in anger, "take it to the stage."
But Sam's never been a performer, never been a star like her cousin so clearly was. She always preferred the daylight than the glittering lights of chandeliers. She preferred fresh air and sunny patches of green over too large rooms lit softly in the night.
Greenhouses, over galas.
She angrily wiped at her face, trying to keep her voice low when she explained this to her cousin.
"Then plant it deep." Zatanna had shrugged, smiling as she leaned over to carefully pull something from behind Sam's ear: a bright red rose. "Prune the unnecessary parts, tender the soft parts and grow deadly."
She offered the flower, and Sam took it delightedly. When she smelled it, it smelled fresh. Like it had just bloomed for her for this one single trick. Her cousin's eyes softened, the sheen of her eyes glinting the way tree leaves rustle in the dredges of Summer.
"You don't have to play their game," Zatanna whispered, just for them, gently bumping Sam's chin up with the crook of her finger. "But that doesn't mean you can't weather the storm and come out the other end more vibrant than any other."
She remembered, then, how Zatanna had smoothed over the ruffled feathers of Sam's mistake earlier that night by making roses just like the one in her hand pop into existence in clouds of colorful smoke. She remembered in particular when Zachary Newman, the reason Sam had lost her temper, had grabbed the rose that appeared in front of him and cried out at sharp indents of thorns.
And it felt like she understood what her cousin was trying to say, even if only by the feel of her words.
"Bloom, goth girl," Zatanna whispered, a show just for the two of them lit by the moon, "thorns and all."
Sam remembers clutching that rose to her chest, remembers the distant whisper-yelling of her mom, remembers Zatanna leaning heavier into her side like comfort, the smell of roses flooding her system like it had no idea what else it could do.
Sam kept those words buried deep within the marrow of her bones, because she wanted to be the kind of flower Zatanna would admire. She wanted to be the rose that she pulled from behind an ear, wanted to be the petals that scattered like confetti in the spotlight, wanted to bloom and make her cousin proud.
It helped more than she could say, more than she could handle sometimes, when she was called to perform.
When she could feel her mom observing her, eying the minutiae of Sam's every movement and breath. Searching for something, but never saying what.
She was never going to be the perfect daughter, nor did she ever want toâbeing goth was a rebellion until it wasn't anymore. But some part of her still rankled. Some part of her still wanted to play nice, even if her dresses were all black and purple and her accessories were sharp and pointed instead of shimmering and expensive.
She wanted to be differentâthat didn't mean she wanted to be a failure.
And then Sam turned twelve, and they moved to Amity Park.
A lot of things changed then.
She already didn't have that many friends in high society, and while she did have a small group of other outcasts she could call friends, they weren't the type to keep correspondence with someone who left.
It meant Sam only had her cousin, Zatanna, who would send her postcards from her shows on the road.
Sam has an entire collection of them, from all over the world. Sometimes, trinkets would be included, sometimes a flower would pop out from seemingly nowhere.
Sometimes, Zatanna would personally deliver them. Those times were her favorite.
They were sporadic in nature, but there was always one constant: Zatanna would always send a postcard on Sam's birthday.
This postcard, the last one to arrive at the old house for her twelfth birthday, was the most important one; It was the one that kept her company in their big, obnoxious Mansion, located in this new town, with nobody she knew but her parents.
Her room still echoed, with nothing yet on the walls, no rugs unpacked, just boxes and boxes that she made sure the servants wouldn't open and rearrange for her.
She sat on the floor to her bedroom and tried not to cry, clutching the postcard to her chest and trying her damnedest not to wrinkle it.
Happy Birthday, to the most magical Manson I know. You got this, goth girl! -Z
That postcard bolstered her through unpacking her room, with the scent of Jasmine wafting through the air and the melodious sounds of some garage band from her previous cityâfriends of friends of classmates who were just starting out.
Two days later, Sam only has one final thing to unpack.
She had left a wall blank and free of furniture on purpose, a clear space that her mother had made the painters set up when they painted Sam's room dark purpleâa wall covered in expensive cork top to bottom just like her previous room, framed in a somewhat understated black filigree trim.
Her parents knew how important this was, even through all the differences and screaming matches and pleading, they would never take this one thing away.
The night before she is set to go to school, Sam spends most of it pinning up all the post cards from her cousin with a heavy tin of push pins surrounded by the smell of incense. Pictures of her old friends, of her family, band posters and even ripped out pages of poetry she's particularly proud of, cover a small expanse of the wall.
It's room for growth.
She doesn't know, at this point, that Zatanna's most recent postcard is more important than she thinks it is. She doesn't realize that it's the most important and will stay the most important.
She can't, not for four more years when finally, finallyâthe next postcard from her cousin arrives.
It's late, and she should be some kind of mad about it. Four years too late. Or maybe it's on time.
She should be kicking and screaming or scoffing and throwing it away, but her fingers are stuck.
The postcard is of a train station, from some place called Utrecht Station. Sam heavily suspects it's European, but can't actually recall where this place might be.
It looks like one of those old timey photos, taken from the street where you can see all the windows of the station curving in black and white tableau due to the reflections of the light, simplified from the older generation of photography. All the people in it are walking briskly, like they have a destination or, more probably, a train to catch. They dress like old timey mobsters, actually. The kind that Tucker likes to mimic the accent of in those bank robbing movies.
She stares a little too long at it, mind unhurriedly processing in contrast to the busy bodies in the photo. She hasn't even flipped it over, doesn't fully know for sure who it's from butâbut who else could it be?
She only has two friends, and she left both of them mere minutes ago after they planned a whole dinner and show for her at the local slam poetry night. Is planning to see them tomorrow morning before class. Bubba always uses those crisp, square envelopes, never postcards.
Feeling ridiculous, she flips it over to confirm it is who she thinks it's from.
The confirmation is quick, but only leaves her with more questions than answers.
Happy 16th Birthday. I'm sorry. I'll see you soon. -Z
The day Zatanna turns eighteen, she learns what it truly means to lose a parent.
This is ironic, considering she lost her mother before she could form proper memories. This should be common knowledge for herâshould be innate even.
Is it better or worse when she means lost literally?
She's always thought this way of phrasing was strange; you don't lose someone or something to Death. Like life is a game, and Death is your opponent.
Death is inevitable.
How can you be lost when you know the exact coordinates of a grave? When the human body fits in a six foot dirt pit and the memory of a soul can be condensed down to a block of stone with a name and dates on it?
But she lost her mother. Dead or alive, she's out there somewhere that Zatanna cannot locate and now her father has suffered the same fate. Except it's different now: she doesn't know her mother beyond the confines of photos stored in old albums, the breath between stories told to her like bedtime lullabies, the dreams her brain conjures up at night.
But she knows her father. She knows the breadth of himâthe scent and habits and ticks. She knows the cadence of his speech, the feel of his hand ruffling her hair, the feel of the soft forehead kisses he gives when she cries, the weight of his I'm proud of you, the security of being cradled in his arms like a child no matter how old she gets, the scrunch of his brow when she scolds him on his diet.
Her mother's circumstances aside, how could she lose her father? It seems unfathomable. He's a grown ass man, and he loves her, and they have a show that must always continue.
But just as Death cares not for schedules and promises, Reality is always blunt and honest: her father is missing and Zatanna feels the ache of it like she's been cored out from her gut. She feels it in the back of her teeth as she smiles on stage, and she feels it when she's sitting backstage in the dark and trying to breathe.
In the end, Zatanna can't even go through a second show without him. Thankfully, it isn't hard to simply cancel the rest of the tour and disappear. It's not like they ever had a concrete scheduleânot like they do in the summers, doing shows in Vegas.
Zatanna, mostly, wants to scream.
She embarks on a questing trip to find her dad, instead.
It turns out to beâŠa lot more convoluted than she ever thought it would be.
===
Before Sam turns thirteen, she goes through puberty.
Well, she thinks it's puberty anyway. Your body and it's natural changes, and all that. Birds and Bees? Sam doesn't really care.
Meat starts to sit heavy in her gut. Just looking at it makes her want to puke. Her breasts haven't changed but she's grown a couple inches, and somehow the aches are on her joints and in her gut.
Taneisha brings an assortment of meat for lunchâand worst of all beef jerky to class, munching on it at all times, and the smell of it bothers Sam. Danny brings something called onigiri for lunch, rice balls with an assortment of fillings that his sister made for him. Somehow, Sam can still smell the salmon and tuna even with the overpowering scent of mayo and sriracha mixed in.
It makes lunch a terrible ordeal, seemingly out of nowhere.
She finds her only reprieve in the garlic steamed vegetables Chef makes for the table at home.
Her mom notices, because her mom notices too much.
Vegetables, tofu, pastas and salads start becoming more prominent at the table.
Sam doesn't say thank you.
Her mom doesn't mention it. Her dad continues to chatter quietly to fill the space.
It's a long year of trial and error.
Her skin itches like the very air around her prickles at her skin, her two best friends are childhood friends who may or may not be in love with each other, her mom won't say anything of substance, and the roots of her hair needs to be dyed black again.
But her veins feel full and she isn't yelling at her mom as much and Danny thinks the bits of blonde that poke out make her look more goth, actually, and she's taller than most of the girls in her class and it makes her feel smug.
There's an energy that thrums under Sam's skin, a restlessness that crawls into the atmosphere, that huffs out in foggy breathes of cold crisp morning air.
Something is wrong with her. Is this normal?
It starts to rankle when she blinks awake to find herself in her yard, a fistful of grass in one hand and the taste of dirt on her tongue.
What the hell is she doing?
She can't stomach meat, she can't stomach fish.
She used to love sushi, and now she's eating fucking grass.
She throws herself into researchâfinds an article about slaughter houses, and realizes that life isn't something to take for grantedâthat privilege is real, and frankly she should be paying more attention.
Danny's dad is Japanese, and his half-Asian features make him more feminine than he wants to be. Taneisha's a black woman in a white man's world. And the patriarchy is a shit place to be when you're a goth girl, even if she's white and rich.
Puberty fucking sucks, and eating meat is a sign of genocide.
She starts to tell everyone she's vegan. She determinedly eats salad, talks about the treatment of cows and chickens and pigs to anyone who will listen.
Her dad gets a greenhouse built, her mom creating a sanctuary of exotic flowers and expensive herbs in it.
Sam and her mom share custody of it, in a sense. She determinedly keeps dirt in her hand and not her fucking mouth, and sometimes her mom makes salves for the itch under her skin. Sometimes her mom makes perfumes, or lotions, or even dyes that Sam dips her fingers into to turn the tips of them a sort of blackish purple.
She doesn't think about her mom giving her salves without Sam telling her anything. She doesn't think about the perfumes and lotions she sneaks back into her parent's bathroom. She doesn't think about her dad, carefully patting her mom's hand at the dinner table when her mom won't stop staring at Sam's fingers.
She doesn't think about the perfumes and lotions not showing up on her vanity anymore.
She gets her shit together.
She goes to school, eats her vegan lunch, and tries to tell herself it's enough.
Summer comes and goes in a blur.
Danny sheepishly shows them his crazy house, shields them from his borderline mad scientist parents as best he can, introduces them to his sister Jazz.
Taneisha tells them she's not a she anymore. Taneisha tells them she's never been a she. Taneisha tells them she's a he.
Taneisha whispers he likes the name his mother gave him, but can't hold it anymore. Taneisha's voice cracks about how he doesn't know how to tell his family. Taneisha warbles shakily about how he thought he was a lesbian, which would have somehow been easier to handle than this. Taneisha cries, and it's the first time Sam's ever seem him cry.
Danny, panicked and more of a crybaby than any of them, frantically says boys don't cry, don't cry!
Sam, angry at the world and the tearsânot at Taneisha, but of the emotions that overwhelm himâhisses that boys can cry whenever they want, stop spreading toxic masculinity dummy!
Taneisha's laugh shatters around them but they get through it.
They sit in a huddle in Danny's room and look up boy names until Taneisha isn't Taneisha anymore.
The end of the Summer is cresting, and Sam and Danny meet Tucker for the first time.
You're my best friends in the whole world. Tucker says, his hand in hers and Danny's completing a circuit that zings through her.
And suddenly she's not quite so alone anymore. It's not all better, she still hasn't told them about herâŠeverything, and she obviously doesn't belong to them the way they belong to her, but it's enough.
It's enough, for now.
She goes home, does not eat the fucking grass, and smiles a feral smile.
Zatanna is nineteen when she falls into bed with John Constantine.
Though, calling it a bed would be generous. It was more of a sofa, with lots of cushions and very little self respect.
But it was nice, to forget the world for a moment. To narrow it all down to skin and flesh and heat and whatever the hell makes up John Constantine on a molecular and mystical level.
It's why she kept coming back the House of Mysteries, why she risks time dilation whenever she slips between dimensions.
She's had a hell of a year and she deserves this, she tells herselfâeven as a small voice in the back of her mind still whispers judgmentally about seeking carnal pleasures when her father is still out there, somewhere.
But that voice is the same voice that sneers at her in the middle of the nightâthe same voice that asks her what if Dad disappeared on purpose, because of you? Isn't that what Mom did?
Raspy kisses lave upon her neck, John's hands traveling up and down her body, bringing her thoughts to heel. She bites at the nearest piece of skin nearby, and the groan she gets in return is both gratifying and grounding.
Useless thoughts have no right to swirl around in her head. She's met heroes and gone on adventures with new hero friends and whilst she still hasn't found her father, her network has grown exponentially. She has access to rumors, to magic, to an organization that keeps getting more and more influential the more heroes join it: The Justice League.
Already, she's heard whispers of at least her father's living status. He's out there somewhere and it's better than what her father could glean from her mother's disappearance.
To the world at large, her mother is dead. To her and her father, her mother is missing.
It helps, knowing that the situation with her father is different in some minute way.
It helps, because this means there's hope.
What it doesn't help is answer Zatanna's questions: Why he disappeared in the first place, why he won't contact her, won't even send a postcard.
This stray thought catches on the ridges of her teeth, mind wandering as her body goes numb again.
She thinks about her cousin, Sam, thinks about how the days have blurred together and she can't quite remember if she sent a postcard to her this year. Zatanna's own birthday passed without her knowledge, but surely Sam's birthday hasn't passed yet?
Aunt Pam had moved them to some small town, hadn't she? Zatanna will have to look for it. Perhaps rework a spell.
Strong hands grip her thighs, spread her decadently as a line of heat gently lays upon her like a blanket, skin on skin on skin.
"You with me, 'luv?" John whispers into the crook of her shoulder and neck. The soft kiss he punctuates the question with is hesitant, checking in.
"I'm here, John." Zatanna rasps, thoughts scattering, dissolving into nothing but flesh again, blissful as the heat of his lips dissipates and she tries not to let it.
"Still okay?" John's hands stop wandering, either seeing her distraction or actually worried, which won't do at all.
She wraps her arms around his neck, clutches at him with her legs.
She melts away, thoughtlessly, carelessly, buoyantly.
She doesn't need to worry right now. She doesn't need to think.
She just needs to be here.
She kisses him, and he kisses her back, and that's all she can carry for the moment.
Tomorrowâtomorrow, she'll pick the rest of it back up.
But that is for tomorrow.
===
Danny dies on a muggy Summer day, just before Sam's fourteenth birthday.
Sam's heart won't stop fucking beating on her chest like it's trying to rip out of her for the entirety of the remaining Summer.
The unnameable thing under her skin threatens to swallow her in a maw covered in needles and pins, but she cannot fucking think about it.
Puberty does not last that fucking long. Puberty does not make you want to crawl out of your own skin, does not make you feel like the marrow in your bones are sucked dry, does not make your head spacey and irritable, does not make you eat fucking grass.
She's ultra recyclo vegetarian and it is unfortunately the best decision of her life, and she can't fucking think about it because she saw her best friend die, and being near him feels electric.
She wants to get closer, but doesn't want to touch.
She blames it on hormones.
Come on, Danny.
Sam stomps into the greenhouse, breathes heavy like anvils and skin burning like there are a million tiny brands sizzling on her pores.
A Ghost Zone?
Her arms are covered in dirt, she's sweating and she's surrounded by plants. The soil is damp and the coolness of it, the soft almost melty, almost fluffy cadence of it sinks into her as she digs and digs and digs.
Arenât you curious?
The greenhouse is technicolor, and the air is soft and stark like petals and pollen. Her knees make indents in the potting soil, she's a fucking messâher skirt and crop top are covered in dirt and petals and roots, her doc martens are smeared with mud, and she feels wild and manic and unreal.
You gotta check it out.
Famous fucking last words.
She doesn't how long it takes for her to feel normal again, but eventually all of the buzzing on her skin drains out of her. Her breath steams out of her like locomotion, but she's finally on solid ground. Pun not intended.
She's elbow deep in potting soil, the humid air of the greenhouse coddles her, and her body is thrumming with something she doesn't want to name.
Danny is alive. Danny is alive, and that's all she needs to know. She will not look a gift horse in the mouth.
She tries not to feel uprooted when she stands up.
She fails.
She stares at the greenhouse flowers, distantly wondering when the adrenaline will crash.
Every blink she makes flashes the same images in her head, on rotation. Danny's body, jolting when he put his hand on the wallâon the button that wasn't supposed to be there. Danny falling to his knees, crashing to the floor. Danny not moving, not breathing, the sudden absence of noise.
Danny's scream echoes in the space between her ears, short, agonizing, cut off like a rose bring pruned.
Her own roses are vibrant, red, red, red.
It's a boon, she's never hated green until now, and everything feels overwhelming.
I'm okay.
Danny's voice has always had that sort of lilt to it, something about the consonants or maybe the vowels. He doesn't have an accent like Jack does, is as American as she or Tucker are, but his consonants are softer, somehow.
I'm okayâSam, Tuck, I'm okay.
She clings to this memory the most, Danny blinking his eyes open with a groan and panicking at the sight of his two best friends crying, distraught.
Danny still doesn't know what to do in the face of tears, and that more than anything had calmed both of them down. Helpless laughter had bubbled up between her and Tuck, a new kind of understanding they had trouble finding after Tucker transitioned.
Not because Sam had a problem with Tucker being a guy, but because it was another thing that separated her from the group nowâthat she was the only girl.
She still hasn't told them about her parents. She's still scared.
Almost losing Danny makes her want to be brave. She's already in deep, and she can'tâ
She furiously wipes her eyes, tracking dirt all over her face and somehow it makes her stronger.
The smell of leaves, of pollen, of soil, it all dives deep into her as she takes a bolstering breath.
She clenches her fists, feels the trace of pebbles between the spaces of her knuckles, and decides that it's far too late to still be scared.
It's been too late.
After school starts, she'll invite them over. They'll play bowling, and she'llâshe'll stand her ground if they change their attitudes.
They won't, some part of her knows, hopes, but if they doâ
She closes her eyes. Takes another breath.
Danny's body on the ground, Tucker's scream overlapping with hers, the heat of their bodies as they held each other afterwards, the crackle of something as she felt Danny alive.
She opens her eyes, sears the image of the bright colors of the greenhouse into her brain, and leaves.
Wake up girlies, new AU just dropped! Can be found on AO3 too!
After Danny becomes Phantom, after Undergrowth, Sam's life takes a decidedly more magical turn. Not that she knows that at first, considering she doesn't have someone showing up to kindly inform her she's a witch.
That is, until her cousin Zatanna shows up in Amity Park after disappearing for four years.
===
Sam is distantly aware of her family's idea of success.
Her parents coasted on the money from being the legacy of a world-changing household invention, but they were socialites, through and through.
High society is as mercurial as the sea could be and her parents were sharks in the water.
They made their money move, like water, like rain, like rivers. Money talks, and the Mansons gave speeches.
No matter how much Sam hated it, her parents were good at it. They were made for it.
Sam was made from dirt, from the energies of Mother Earth, who gave back when tendered by the Universe.
Sam was decidedly not made for the glam and glitz of high society.
She knew it in her bones, down to the roots of her, and it was why she did the only thing she could think of: she went goth.
There were, after all, no high society goths on the scene.
At first it was just an abject disdain for what her parents did, for what her mother wanted her to be.
The sparkles were too bright, the laughs too fake and loud, the politics too much of a headache for Sam to even want to consider. She could, in honesty, she could, she just didn't want to.
And at 8 years old, that was all that mattered in the world. She didn't want to, so she didn't. She avoided sparkles like the plague, threw tantrums and screamed and yelled.
She learned about goths from her older cousin, Zatanna. A role model that Sam rarely ever got to visit, someone who was glam and glitz, but not high society about it.
Someone who didn't perform to navigate the complex systems of the Rich and OrneryâZatanna was someone who performed to be seen.
Someone who performed to be herself, to smile and say to the world smile back, that's all I need, smile back!
It was her cousin's greatest trick, making Sam smile.
Almost six years older than her and always on the go, it's a minor miracle Zatanna even met her with Uncle Gio always performing on the road. But they did and Sam has never been more grateful to have her cousin during some of the harder parts of being a high society kid.
Like when she was ten, and her mother was whisper-yelling something with Uncle Gio down the hall. They had just come home from a disastrous gala where Sam couldn't keep her temper and became a mocking point for the other rich families to poke and prod at. More than usual, anywayâmore than the typical she's just different; more because now, now it's like it was obvious a goth girl would ruin a gala instead of justâŠexisting on a different plane.
It wasn't hard to know that the subject of the fight was her.
"Don't take it to heart," Zatanna had said then, sitting on the floor beside her as Sam sniffled into her knees in anger, "take it to the stage."
But Sam's never been a performer, never been a star like her cousin so clearly was. She always preferred the daylight than the glittering lights of chandeliers. She preferred fresh air and sunny patches of green over too large rooms lit softly in the night.
Greenhouses, over galas.
She angrily wiped at her face, trying to keep her voice low when she explained this to her cousin.
"Then plant it deep." Zatanna had shrugged, smiling as she leaned over to carefully pull something from behind Sam's ear: a bright red rose. "Prune the unnecessary parts, tender the soft parts and grow deadly."
She offered the flower, and Sam took it delightedly. When she smelled it, it smelled fresh. Like it had just bloomed for her for this one single trick. Her cousin's eyes softened, the sheen of her eyes glinting the way tree leaves rustle in the dredges of Summer.
"You don't have to play their game," Zatanna whispered, just for them, gently bumping Sam's chin up with the crook of her finger. "But that doesn't mean you can't weather the storm and come out the other end more vibrant than any other."
She remembered, then, how Zatanna had smoothed over the ruffled feathers of Sam's mistake earlier that night by making roses just like the one in her hand pop into existence in clouds of colorful smoke. She remembered in particular when Zachary Newman, the reason Sam had lost her temper, had grabbed the rose that appeared in front of him and cried out at sharp indents of thorns.
And it felt like she understood what her cousin was trying to say, even if only by the feel of her words.
"Bloom, goth girl," Zatanna whispered, a show just for the two of them lit by the moon, "thorns and all."
Sam remembers clutching that rose to her chest, remembers the distant whisper-yelling of her mom, remembers Zatanna leaning heavier into her side like comfort, the smell of roses flooding her system like it had no idea what else it could do.
Sam kept those words buried deep within the marrow of her bones, because she wanted to be the kind of flower Zatanna would admire. She wanted to be the rose that she pulled from behind an ear, wanted to be the petals that scattered like confetti in the spotlight, wanted to bloom and make her cousin proud.
It helped more than she could say, more than she could handle sometimes, when she was called to perform.
When she could feel her mom observing her, eying the minutiae of Sam's every movement and breath. Searching for something, but never saying what.
She was never going to be the perfect daughter, nor did she ever want toâbeing goth was a rebellion until it wasn't anymore. But some part of her still rankled. Some part of her still wanted to play nice, even if her dresses were all black and purple and her accessories were sharp and pointed instead of shimmering and expensive.
She wanted to be differentâthat didn't mean she wanted to be a failure.
And then Sam turned twelve, and they moved to Amity Park.
A lot of things changed then.
She already didn't have that many friends in high society, and while she did have a small group of other outcasts she could call friends, they weren't the type to keep correspondence with someone who left.
It meant Sam only had her cousin, Zatanna, who would send her postcards from her shows on the road.
Sam has an entire collection of them, from all over the world. Sometimes, trinkets would be included, sometimes a flower would pop out from seemingly nowhere.
Sometimes, Zatanna would personally deliver them. Those times were her favorite.
They were sporadic in nature, but there was always one constant: Zatanna would always send a postcard on Sam's birthday.
This postcard, the last one to arrive at the old house for her twelfth birthday, was the most important one; It was the one that kept her company in their big, obnoxious Mansion, located in this new town, with nobody she knew but her parents.
Her room still echoed, with nothing yet on the walls, no rugs unpacked, just boxes and boxes that she made sure the servants wouldn't open and rearrange for her.
She sat on the floor to her bedroom and tried not to cry, clutching the postcard to her chest and trying her damnedest not to wrinkle it.
Happy Birthday, to the most magical Manson I know. You got this, goth girl! -Z
That postcard bolstered her through unpacking her room, with the scent of Jasmine wafting through the air and the melodious sounds of some garage band from her previous cityâfriends of friends of classmates who were just starting out.
Two days later, Sam only has one final thing to unpack.
She had left a wall blank and free of furniture on purpose, a clear space that her mother had made the painters set up when they painted Sam's room dark purpleâa wall covered in expensive cork top to bottom just like her previous room, framed in a somewhat understated black filigree trim.
Her parents knew how important this was, even through all the differences and screaming matches and pleading, they would never take this one thing away.
The night before she is set to go to school, Sam spends most of it pinning up all the post cards from her cousin with a heavy tin of push pins surrounded by the smell of incense. Pictures of her old friends, of her family, band posters and even ripped out pages of poetry she's particularly proud of, cover a small expanse of the wall.
It's room for growth.
She doesn't know, at this point, that Zatanna's most recent postcard is more important than she thinks it is. She doesn't realize that it's the most important and will stay the most important.
She can't, not for four more years when finally, finallyâthe next postcard from her cousin arrives.
It's late, and she should be some kind of mad about it. Four years too late. Or maybe it's on time.
She should be kicking and screaming or scoffing and throwing it away, but her fingers are stuck.
The postcard is of a train station, from some place called Utrecht Station. Sam heavily suspects it's European, but can't actually recall where this place might be.
It looks like one of those old timey photos, taken from the street where you can see all the windows of the station curving in black and white tableau due to the reflections of the light, simplified from the older generation of photography. All the people in it are walking briskly, like they have a destination or, more probably, a train to catch. They dress like old timey mobsters, actually. The kind that Tucker likes to mimic the accent of in those bank robbing movies.
She stares a little too long at it, mind unhurriedly processing in contrast to the busy bodies in the photo. She hasn't even flipped it over, doesn't fully know for sure who it's from butâbut who else could it be?
She only has two friends, and she left both of them mere minutes ago after they planned a whole dinner and show for her at the local slam poetry night. Is planning to see them tomorrow morning before class. Bubba always uses those crisp, square envelopes, never postcards.
Feeling ridiculous, she flips it over to confirm it is who she thinks it's from.
The confirmation is quick, but only leaves her with more questions than answers.
Happy 16th Birthday. I'm sorry. I'll see you soon. -Z
The day Zatanna turns eighteen, she learns what it truly means to lose a parent.
This is ironic, considering she lost her mother before she could form proper memories. This should be common knowledge for herâshould be innate even.
Is it better or worse when she means lost literally?
She's always thought this way of phrasing was strange; you don't lose someone or something to Death. Like life is a game, and Death is your opponent.
Death is inevitable.
How can you be lost when you know the exact coordinates of a grave? When the human body fits in a six foot dirt pit and the memory of a soul can be condensed down to a block of stone with a name and dates on it?
But she lost her mother. Dead or alive, she's out there somewhere that Zatanna cannot locate and now her father has suffered the same fate. Except it's different now: she doesn't know her mother beyond the confines of photos stored in old albums, the breath between stories told to her like bedtime lullabies, the dreams her brain conjures up at night.
But she knows her father. She knows the breadth of himâthe scent and habits and ticks. She knows the cadence of his speech, the feel of his hand ruffling her hair, the feel of the soft forehead kisses he gives when she cries, the weight of his I'm proud of you, the security of being cradled in his arms like a child no matter how old she gets, the scrunch of his brow when she scolds him on his diet.
Her mother's circumstances aside, how could she lose her father? It seems unfathomable. He's a grown ass man, and he loves her, and they have a show that must always continue.
But just as Death cares not for schedules and promises, Reality is always blunt and honest: her father is missing and Zatanna feels the ache of it like she's been cored out from her gut. She feels it in the back of her teeth as she smiles on stage, and she feels it when she's sitting backstage in the dark and trying to breathe.
In the end, Zatanna can't even go through a second show without him. Thankfully, it isn't hard to simply cancel the rest of the tour and disappear. It's not like they ever had a concrete scheduleânot like they do in the summers, doing shows in Vegas.
Zatanna, mostly, wants to scream.
She embarks on a questing trip to find her dad, instead.
It turns out to beâŠa lot more convoluted than she ever thought it would be.
===
Before Sam turns thirteen, she goes through puberty.
Well, she thinks it's puberty anyway. Your body and it's natural changes, and all that. Birds and Bees? Sam doesn't really care.
Meat starts to sit heavy in her gut. Just looking at it makes her want to puke. Her breasts haven't changed but she's grown a couple inches, and somehow the aches are on her joints and in her gut.
Taneisha brings an assortment of meat for lunchâand worst of all beef jerky to class, munching on it at all times, and the smell of it bothers Sam. Danny brings something called onigiri for lunch, rice balls with an assortment of fillings that his sister made for him. Somehow, Sam can still smell the salmon and tuna even with the overpowering scent of mayo and sriracha mixed in.
It makes lunch a terrible ordeal, seemingly out of nowhere.
She finds her only reprieve in the garlic steamed vegetables Chef makes for the table at home.
Her mom notices, because her mom notices too much.
Vegetables, tofu, pastas and salads start becoming more prominent at the table.
Sam doesn't say thank you.
Her mom doesn't mention it. Her dad continues to chatter quietly to fill the space.
It's a long year of trial and error.
Her skin itches like the very air around her prickles at her skin, her two best friends are childhood friends who may or may not be in love with each other, her mom won't say anything of substance, and the roots of her hair needs to be dyed black again.
But her veins feel full and she isn't yelling at her mom as much and Danny thinks the bits of blonde that poke out make her look more goth, actually, and she's taller than most of the girls in her class and it makes her feel smug.
There's an energy that thrums under Sam's skin, a restlessness that crawls into the atmosphere, that huffs out in foggy breathes of cold crisp morning air.
Something is wrong with her. Is this normal?
It starts to rankle when she blinks awake to find herself in her yard, a fistful of grass in one hand and the taste of dirt on her tongue.
What the hell is she doing?
She can't stomach meat, she can't stomach fish.
She used to love sushi, and now she's eating fucking grass.
She throws herself into researchâfinds an article about slaughter houses, and realizes that life isn't something to take for grantedâthat privilege is real, and frankly she should be paying more attention.
Danny's dad is Japanese, and his half-Asian features make him more feminine than he wants to be. Taneisha's a black woman in a white man's world. And the patriarchy is a shit place to be when you're a goth girl, even if she's white and rich.
Puberty fucking sucks, and eating meat is a sign of genocide.
She starts to tell everyone she's vegan. She determinedly eats salad, talks about the treatment of cows and chickens and pigs to anyone who will listen.
Her dad gets a greenhouse built, her mom creating a sanctuary of exotic flowers and expensive herbs in it.
Sam and her mom share custody of it, in a sense. She determinedly keeps dirt in her hand and not her fucking mouth, and sometimes her mom makes salves for the itch under her skin. Sometimes her mom makes perfumes, or lotions, or even dyes that Sam dips her fingers into to turn the tips of them a sort of blackish purple.
She doesn't think about her mom giving her salves without Sam telling her anything. She doesn't think about the perfumes and lotions she sneaks back into her parent's bathroom. She doesn't think about her dad, carefully patting her mom's hand at the dinner table when her mom won't stop staring at Sam's fingers.
She doesn't think about the perfumes and lotions not showing up on her vanity anymore.
She gets her shit together.
She goes to school, eats her vegan lunch, and tries to tell herself it's enough.
Summer comes and goes in a blur.
Danny sheepishly shows them his crazy house, shields them from his borderline mad scientist parents as best he can, introduces them to his sister Jazz.
Taneisha tells them she's not a she anymore. Taneisha tells them she's never been a she. Taneisha tells them she's a he.
Taneisha whispers he likes the name his mother gave him, but can't hold it anymore. Taneisha's voice cracks about how he doesn't know how to tell his family. Taneisha warbles shakily about how he thought he was a lesbian, which would have somehow been easier to handle than this. Taneisha cries, and it's the first time Sam's ever seem him cry.
Danny, panicked and more of a crybaby than any of them, frantically says boys don't cry, don't cry!
Sam, angry at the world and the tearsânot at Taneisha, but of the emotions that overwhelm himâhisses that boys can cry whenever they want, stop spreading toxic masculinity dummy!
Taneisha's laugh shatters around them but they get through it.
They sit in a huddle in Danny's room and look up boy names until Taneisha isn't Taneisha anymore.
The end of the Summer is cresting, and Sam and Danny meet Tucker for the first time.
You're my best friends in the whole world. Tucker says, his hand in hers and Danny's completing a circuit that zings through her.
And suddenly she's not quite so alone anymore. It's not all better, she still hasn't told them about herâŠeverything, and she obviously doesn't belong to them the way they belong to her, but it's enough.
It's enough, for now.
She goes home, does not eat the fucking grass, and smiles a feral smile.
Wake up girlies, new AU just dropped! Can be found on AO3 too!
After Danny becomes Phantom, after Undergrowth, Sam's life takes a decidedly more magical turn. Not that she knows that at first, considering she doesn't have someone showing up to kindly inform her she's a witch.
That is, until her cousin Zatanna shows up in Amity Park after disappearing for four years.
===
Sam is distantly aware of her family's idea of success.
Her parents coasted on the money from being the legacy of a world-changing household invention, but they were socialites, through and through.
High society is as mercurial as the sea could be and her parents were sharks in the water.
They made their money move, like water, like rain, like rivers. Money talks, and the Mansons gave speeches.
No matter how much Sam hated it, her parents were good at it. They were made for it.
Sam was made from dirt, from the energies of Mother Earth, who gave back when tendered by the Universe.
Sam was decidedly not made for the glam and glitz of high society.
She knew it in her bones, down to the roots of her, and it was why she did the only thing she could think of: she went goth.
There were, after all, no high society goths on the scene.
At first it was just an abject disdain for what her parents did, for what her mother wanted her to be.
The sparkles were too bright, the laughs too fake and loud, the politics too much of a headache for Sam to even want to consider. She could, in honesty, she could, she just didn't want to.
And at 8 years old, that was all that mattered in the world. She didn't want to, so she didn't. She avoided sparkles like the plague, threw tantrums and screamed and yelled.
She learned about goths from her older cousin, Zatanna. A role model that Sam rarely ever got to visit, someone who was glam and glitz, but not high society about it.
Someone who didn't perform to navigate the complex systems of the Rich and OrneryâZatanna was someone who performed to be seen.
Someone who performed to be herself, to smile and say to the world smile back, that's all I need, smile back!
It was her cousin's greatest trick, making Sam smile.
Almost six years older than her and always on the go, it's a minor miracle Zatanna even met her with Uncle Gio always performing on the road. But they did and Sam has never been more grateful to have her cousin during some of the harder parts of being a high society kid.
Like when she was ten, and her mother was whisper-yelling something with Uncle Gio down the hall. They had just come home from a disastrous gala where Sam couldn't keep her temper and became a mocking point for the other rich families to poke and prod at. More than usual, anywayâmore than the typical she's just different; more because now, now it's like it was obvious a goth girl would ruin a gala instead of justâŠexisting on a different plane.
It wasn't hard to know that the subject of the fight was her.
"Don't take it to heart," Zatanna had said then, sitting on the floor beside her as Sam sniffled into her knees in anger, "take it to the stage."
But Sam's never been a performer, never been a star like her cousin so clearly was. She always preferred the daylight than the glittering lights of chandeliers. She preferred fresh air and sunny patches of green over too large rooms lit softly in the night.
Greenhouses, over galas.
She angrily wiped at her face, trying to keep her voice low when she explained this to her cousin.
"Then plant it deep." Zatanna had shrugged, smiling as she leaned over to carefully pull something from behind Sam's ear: a bright red rose. "Prune the unnecessary parts, tender the soft parts and grow deadly."
She offered the flower, and Sam took it delightedly. When she smelled it, it smelled fresh. Like it had just bloomed for her for this one single trick. Her cousin's eyes softened, the sheen of her eyes glinting the way tree leaves rustle in the dredges of Summer.
"You don't have to play their game," Zatanna whispered, just for them, gently bumping Sam's chin up with the crook of her finger. "But that doesn't mean you can't weather the storm and come out the other end more vibrant than any other."
She remembered, then, how Zatanna had smoothed over the ruffled feathers of Sam's mistake earlier that night by making roses just like the one in her hand pop into existence in clouds of colorful smoke. She remembered in particular when Zachary Newman, the reason Sam had lost her temper, had grabbed the rose that appeared in front of him and cried out at sharp indents of thorns.
And it felt like she understood what her cousin was trying to say, even if only by the feel of her words.
"Bloom, goth girl," Zatanna whispered, a show just for the two of them lit by the moon, "thorns and all."
Sam remembers clutching that rose to her chest, remembers the distant whisper-yelling of her mom, remembers Zatanna leaning heavier into her side like comfort, the smell of roses flooding her system like it had no idea what else it could do.
Sam kept those words buried deep within the marrow of her bones, because she wanted to be the kind of flower Zatanna would admire. She wanted to be the rose that she pulled from behind an ear, wanted to be the petals that scattered like confetti in the spotlight, wanted to bloom and make her cousin proud.
It helped more than she could say, more than she could handle sometimes, when she was called to perform.
When she could feel her mom observing her, eying the minutiae of Sam's every movement and breath. Searching for something, but never saying what.
She was never going to be the perfect daughter, nor did she ever want toâbeing goth was a rebellion until it wasn't anymore. But some part of her still rankled. Some part of her still wanted to play nice, even if her dresses were all black and purple and her accessories were sharp and pointed instead of shimmering and expensive.
She wanted to be differentâthat didn't mean she wanted to be a failure.
And then Sam turned twelve, and they moved to Amity Park.
A lot of things changed then.
She already didn't have that many friends in high society, and while she did have a small group of other outcasts she could call friends, they weren't the type to keep correspondence with someone who left.
It meant Sam only had her cousin, Zatanna, who would send her postcards from her shows on the road.
Sam has an entire collection of them, from all over the world. Sometimes, trinkets would be included, sometimes a flower would pop out from seemingly nowhere.
Sometimes, Zatanna would personally deliver them. Those times were her favorite.
They were sporadic in nature, but there was always one constant: Zatanna would always send a postcard on Sam's birthday.
This postcard, the last one to arrive at the old house for her twelfth birthday, was the most important one; It was the one that kept her company in their big, obnoxious Mansion, located in this new town, with nobody she knew but her parents.
Her room still echoed, with nothing yet on the walls, no rugs unpacked, just boxes and boxes that she made sure the servants wouldn't open and rearrange for her.
She sat on the floor to her bedroom and tried not to cry, clutching the postcard to her chest and trying her damnedest not to wrinkle it.
Happy Birthday, to the most magical Manson I know. You got this, goth girl! -Z
That postcard bolstered her through unpacking her room, with the scent of Jasmine wafting through the air and the melodious sounds of some garage band from her previous cityâfriends of friends of classmates who were just starting out.
Two days later, Sam only has one final thing to unpack.
She had left a wall blank and free of furniture on purpose, a clear space that her mother had made the painters set up when they painted Sam's room dark purpleâa wall covered in expensive cork top to bottom just like her previous room, framed in a somewhat understated black filigree trim.
Her parents knew how important this was, even through all the differences and screaming matches and pleading, they would never take this one thing away.
The night before she is set to go to school, Sam spends most of it pinning up all the post cards from her cousin with a heavy tin of push pins surrounded by the smell of incense. Pictures of her old friends, of her family, band posters and even ripped out pages of poetry she's particularly proud of, cover a small expanse of the wall.
It's room for growth.
She doesn't know, at this point, that Zatanna's most recent postcard is more important than she thinks it is. She doesn't realize that it's the most important and will stay the most important.
She can't, not for four more years when finally, finallyâthe next postcard from her cousin arrives.
It's late, and she should be some kind of mad about it. Four years too late. Or maybe it's on time.
She should be kicking and screaming or scoffing and throwing it away, but her fingers are stuck.
The postcard is of a train station, from some place called Utrecht Station. Sam heavily suspects it's European, but can't actually recall where this place might be.
It looks like one of those old timey photos, taken from the street where you can see all the windows of the station curving in black and white tableau due to the reflections of the light, simplified from the older generation of photography. All the people in it are walking briskly, like they have a destination or, more probably, a train to catch. They dress like old timey mobsters, actually. The kind that Tucker likes to mimic the accent of in those bank robbing movies.
She stares a little too long at it, mind unhurriedly processing in contrast to the busy bodies in the photo. She hasn't even flipped it over, doesn't fully know for sure who it's from butâbut who else could it be?
She only has two friends, and she left both of them mere minutes ago after they planned a whole dinner and show for her at the local slam poetry night. Is planning to see them tomorrow morning before class. Bubba always uses those crisp, square envelopes, never postcards.
Feeling ridiculous, she flips it over to confirm it is who she thinks it's from.
The confirmation is quick, but only leaves her with more questions than answers.
Happy 16th Birthday. I'm sorry. I'll see you soon. -Z
The Adventures of a Teenage God (and other such beings)
Hullo!!! I'm joining this year's @phicphight :)
If you remember the last time I joined, then you wont be surprised that this year I am also trying to cram as many prompts as i can feasibly write for into one fic. If you don't, well. surprise!
we'll see how many i manage this time, probably not as much as before, but ive already kind of outlined at least 4 others, so im hopeful! last time I also went a little heavy handed on the angst factor, so this time i'm going full crack treated semi-seriously, lighthearted gags, etc. im in my funny bone era baby!!!!
Anyway enough chatting. Here's the first chapter, which can also be found on AO3!
Original Prompt by @chrysanthemum9484 :
Danny ascended to godhood and no one bothered to inform him.
===
The thing about Danny is that he is, above all else, oblivious. He can recognize this now, can even freely admit it if not out loud, then at least to himself.
And, of course, to his two best friends and a room full of eyeball-headed ghosts.
(Don't even get him started on Clockwork. Danny's trying not to think about Clockwork's involvement. It's not like he can lie to that guy, and thinking about Clockwork and their hand on the current situation is a problem for future Danny, the Danny of Not Now.)
"I'mâŠa what now?" Danny rasps.
Sam squeezes his left bicep at the same time Tuck nudges him in the shoulder on his right. He feels a little like a sandwich.
"For lack of a better term," one of the aforementioned eyeball headed ghosts, an Observant if they're to be believed, drawls, "a God."
âŠA sandwich that is thoroughly freaked out, but a sandwich nonetheless. Who may or may not also be a God.
"But." Danny swallows, unsuccessfully with how dry his throat suddenly is, "I'm not even 18 yet."
The squeeze and nudge go tighter. If he were to define what type of sandwich he is, it'd be PB and J. Half and Half.
And if he were a PB and J, his insides would be all over the god damn floor.
As it is, even though it feels that way, all his insides areâwell. He's in his ghost form so does he even have organs?
"Contrary to popular belief, age," another observant drawls in the exact same manner as the one before, "is not exactly relevant to Godhood."
"I feel like it should be relevant though." Tucker cuts in, voice rumbling through his chest and into Danny's shoulder and through him. "Can you be a, uhâ"
"Ancient." Sam answers through gritted teeth, which he can also feel from the way she presses her body into his left bicep, "They called him an Ancient."
"Right!" Tucker snaps towards Sam, "I feel like Ancient implies a very long livelihood, no?"
"And for that matter," Sam cuts her gaze towards the eyeballs like a scythe through weeds, "He's even younger in ghost-age. He's like, three. You're telling me you want a toddler for a King?"
"Yeah, like, you just show up here," Tucker frantically flails his arms about at the assembled, what, twenty? Observants standing around them, "No crown, no scepter thing, noâ"
Tucker snaps, multiple times, before Sam roles her eyes and provides the missing word, "coronation."
"No coronation!" Tucker throws his hands up, looking to the ceiling as if to say you hear this Big Guy?
Danny huffs a weak laugh at that, because Tuck is hardly religious, but his mom is so he's always talking God as if he's some kind of homie or bro andâ
That's when Danny realizes he hasn't really been breathing, and Sam has moved to rub circles into his back and he's hardly felt it.
"There seems to beâŠ" an Observant somewhere in the back left cuts in, "a misunderstanding here."
That brings all of them short, Tucker shutting his mouth and trying to find the source of the words in the small assembled crowd with Sam and Danny tensing as if waiting for an attack.
"We are not appointing Phantom as the Ghost King," another voice in the crowd adds in, somewhere to the right this time, "nor are we indicting him into becoming an Ancient."
There's a long silence where the trio glance at each other, and it's clear what they want to say.
So of course, Sam says it, blunt almost hateful. "ThenâŠwhat are you doing?"
"Other than freaking Danny out." Tucker mutters mulishly under his breath. As if it's a hate crime being committed.
Danny loves his friends so very much.
A collective sigh blows in staggered tandem, which is a little unfair in his opinion.
"Being an Ancient isn't a club." The Observant at the forefront of the gang carefully says, "It isn't something you are invited or crowned. Only the living require acknowledgement of thatâHere, you simply are."
Tucker and Sam sputter, but all Danny can hear is white noise. The static isn't loud enough to drown out the next words though.
"You've been an Ancient, you've been Ruler of the Infinite Realms since almost your inception," the leader Observant continues, gesturing to the rest of them and their surroundings, "and this is your Keepâyour first visit since defeating Pariah Dark. It is only natural that we be here to welcome you."
"We were worried," one of the smaller Observants titters, nervously, "that perhaps you were wishing to make your Haunt your Keep instead, which would haveâŠunfortunate repercussions."
"My haunt?" Danny rasps, "What do you mean?"
"Your home, theâŠhuman city you claim as your territory outside the Realms." An Observant in the back right points out, whichâDanny really does need to ask for their names because he's already dizzy with the content of the conversation, and all this bouncing around with almost identical eyeballs is really doing a number on him.
"You mean Amity Park?" Tucker straightens, at the same time Sam growls out, "What kind of repercussions?"
"A haunt is a place of privacy, comfort, perhaps even a place to socialize depending on the entity," A voice behind the middle attempts to summarize, as voice to the back right tacks on, "but a King's Keep is a place of, hm. Work?"
"A haunt conforms itself to the entity's comfort, their needs." The Observant at the forefront, the leader of the pack, begins to tense, it's one eye bouncing back and forth between the three of them as they continue gravely. "The Keep conforms itself to the Realms at large. A place of stability where a Ruler can receive their people and their problems, before sending them along their way."
A feeling of horrible dawning begins to flush over them, a feeling that Danny can relate to and understand despite there being no helpful body language to denote it.
"So hypothetically speakingâŠ" Danny's voice cracks, "If a place becomes both a haunt and a KeepâŠ"
The leader Observant shuts its one eye, answering as if each word is painful. "It will not know which to conform itself to, and become chaos. It will try to be the middle ground."
Suddenly the past three years of Danny's life is beginning to make sense. Suddenly, a sense of guilt and dread washes over him.
"Oh my God." Tucker intones, at the same time Sam starts swearing, "Holy shit, holy shit."
"ThisâŠexplains a lot." Danny weakly croaks to the crowd.
"Have a seat, you three." The leader of the Observants opens their eye, sternly and brokenly answering in kind. "I suppose we have a lot to speak about."
The crowd begins to mumble and mutter, staccato beats of indecipherable questions and statements said as everyone migrates to a long table that appears behind them.
Sam, Tucker, and Danny all take a seat at the head. Sam to his right, and Tucker to his left.
Once the murmuring peters off, all eyes on him, Danny takes a deep, deep breath.
At a loss, unsure, and honestly a little terrified, Danny has no choice.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Danny Phantom, Batman - All Media Types
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Danny Fenton & Jazz Fenton
Characters: Jazz Fenton, Danny Fenton
Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jazz has PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Bad Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton, Jazz POV, basically Jazz going through Phantom Pains
A ficlet based off of @bloggerspamâs Phantom PainsÂ
Summary:
âDoes that make me a monster?â
Jazz had never considered Danny to be anything less than human, even though he was technically half ghost now. He was everything good, and bright, and right in the world.
He was her world.
Vlad she considered a monster; though for very different reasons. His obsession with her mother, with Danny, with having his picturesque life by taking pieces of their family.
Yet he was the one to save her. And she was the one who killed them.
The Adventures of a Teenage God (and other such beings)
Hullo!!! I'm joining this year's @phicphight :)
If you remember the last time I joined, then you wont be surprised that this year I am also trying to cram as many prompts as i can feasibly write for into one fic. If you don't, well. surprise!
we'll see how many i manage this time, probably not as much as before, but ive already kind of outlined at least 4 others, so im hopeful! last time I also went a little heavy handed on the angst factor, so this time i'm going full crack treated semi-seriously, lighthearted gags, etc. im in my funny bone era baby!!!!
Anyway enough chatting. Here's the first chapter, which can also be found on AO3!
Original Prompt by @chrysanthemum9484 :
Danny ascended to godhood and no one bothered to inform him.
===
The thing about Danny is that he is, above all else, oblivious. He can recognize this now, can even freely admit it if not out loud, then at least to himself.
And, of course, to his two best friends and a room full of eyeball-headed ghosts.
(Don't even get him started on Clockwork. Danny's trying not to think about Clockwork's involvement. It's not like he can lie to that guy, and thinking about Clockwork and their hand on the current situation is a problem for future Danny, the Danny of Not Now.)
"I'mâŠa what now?" Danny rasps.
Sam squeezes his left bicep at the same time Tuck nudges him in the shoulder on his right. He feels a little like a sandwich.
"For lack of a better term," one of the aforementioned eyeball headed ghosts, an Observant if they're to be believed, drawls, "a God."
âŠA sandwich that is thoroughly freaked out, but a sandwich nonetheless. Who may or may not also be a God.
"But." Danny swallows, unsuccessfully with how dry his throat suddenly is, "I'm not even 18 yet."
The squeeze and nudge go tighter. If he were to define what type of sandwich he is, it'd be PB and J. Half and Half.
And if he were a PB and J, his insides would be all over the god damn floor.
As it is, even though it feels that way, all his insides areâwell. He's in his ghost form so does he even have organs?
"Contrary to popular belief, age," another observant drawls in the exact same manner as the one before, "is not exactly relevant to Godhood."
"I feel like it should be relevant though." Tucker cuts in, voice rumbling through his chest and into Danny's shoulder and through him. "Can you be a, uhâ"
"Ancient." Sam answers through gritted teeth, which he can also feel from the way she presses her body into his left bicep, "They called him an Ancient."
"Right!" Tucker snaps towards Sam, "I feel like Ancient implies a very long livelihood, no?"
"And for that matter," Sam cuts her gaze towards the eyeballs like a scythe through weeds, "He's even younger in ghost-age. He's like, three. You're telling me you want a toddler for a King?"
"Yeah, like, you just show up here," Tucker frantically flails his arms about at the assembled, what, twenty? Observants standing around them, "No crown, no scepter thing, noâ"
Tucker snaps, multiple times, before Sam roles her eyes and provides the missing word, "coronation."
"No coronation!" Tucker throws his hands up, looking to the ceiling as if to say you hear this Big Guy?
Danny huffs a weak laugh at that, because Tuck is hardly religious, but his mom is so he's always talking God as if he's some kind of homie or bro andâ
That's when Danny realizes he hasn't really been breathing, and Sam has moved to rub circles into his back and he's hardly felt it.
"There seems to beâŠ" an Observant somewhere in the back left cuts in, "a misunderstanding here."
That brings all of them short, Tucker shutting his mouth and trying to find the source of the words in the small assembled crowd with Sam and Danny tensing as if waiting for an attack.
"We are not appointing Phantom as the Ghost King," another voice in the crowd adds in, somewhere to the right this time, "nor are we indicting him into becoming an Ancient."
There's a long silence where the trio glance at each other, and it's clear what they want to say.
So of course, Sam says it, blunt almost hateful. "ThenâŠwhat are you doing?"
"Other than freaking Danny out." Tucker mutters mulishly under his breath. As if it's a hate crime being committed.
Danny loves his friends so very much.
A collective sigh blows in staggered tandem, which is a little unfair in his opinion.
"Being an Ancient isn't a club." The Observant at the forefront of the gang carefully says, "It isn't something you are invited or crowned. Only the living require acknowledgement of thatâHere, you simply are."
Tucker and Sam sputter, but all Danny can hear is white noise. The static isn't loud enough to drown out the next words though.
"You've been an Ancient, you've been Ruler of the Infinite Realms since almost your inception," the leader Observant continues, gesturing to the rest of them and their surroundings, "and this is your Keepâyour first visit since defeating Pariah Dark. It is only natural that we be here to welcome you."
"We were worried," one of the smaller Observants titters, nervously, "that perhaps you were wishing to make your Haunt your Keep instead, which would haveâŠunfortunate repercussions."
"My haunt?" Danny rasps, "What do you mean?"
"Your home, theâŠhuman city you claim as your territory outside the Realms." An Observant in the back right points out, whichâDanny really does need to ask for their names because he's already dizzy with the content of the conversation, and all this bouncing around with almost identical eyeballs is really doing a number on him.
"You mean Amity Park?" Tucker straightens, at the same time Sam growls out, "What kind of repercussions?"
"A haunt is a place of privacy, comfort, perhaps even a place to socialize depending on the entity," A voice behind the middle attempts to summarize, as voice to the back right tacks on, "but a King's Keep is a place of, hm. Work?"
"A haunt conforms itself to the entity's comfort, their needs." The Observant at the forefront, the leader of the pack, begins to tense, it's one eye bouncing back and forth between the three of them as they continue gravely. "The Keep conforms itself to the Realms at large. A place of stability where a Ruler can receive their people and their problems, before sending them along their way."
A feeling of horrible dawning begins to flush over them, a feeling that Danny can relate to and understand despite there being no helpful body language to denote it.
"So hypothetically speakingâŠ" Danny's voice cracks, "If a place becomes both a haunt and a KeepâŠ"
The leader Observant shuts its one eye, answering as if each word is painful. "It will not know which to conform itself to, and become chaos. It will try to be the middle ground."
Suddenly the past three years of Danny's life is beginning to make sense. Suddenly, a sense of guilt and dread washes over him.
"Oh my God." Tucker intones, at the same time Sam starts swearing, "Holy shit, holy shit."
"ThisâŠexplains a lot." Danny weakly croaks to the crowd.
"Have a seat, you three." The leader of the Observants opens their eye, sternly and brokenly answering in kind. "I suppose we have a lot to speak about."
The crowd begins to mumble and mutter, staccato beats of indecipherable questions and statements said as everyone migrates to a long table that appears behind them.
Sam, Tucker, and Danny all take a seat at the head. Sam to his right, and Tucker to his left.
Once the murmuring peters off, all eyes on him, Danny takes a deep, deep breath.
At a loss, unsure, and honestly a little terrified, Danny has no choice.
Nobody asked for it, but I was tickled pink by a certain comment I received, so i decided to do a little bit of a deep dive on little details I tried to include in the fic.
Spoilers ahead, so be careful--It's very very long, so it'll ironically be under the cut!
===
Chapter 1:
"JustâŠtry? For me?" Jazz implores, switching tracks and pleading with him now. Damn, she knows he's weak to that tone of voiceâJazz hardly ever pleads. "Go out for coffee with a colleague, help someone out with those weirdly specific skills of yours!"
This specific line was funny to me, because as most of the readers know it directly foreshadows Danny getting coffee with Tim, and offering to be his fake boyfriend as a "weirdly specific skill." It will never not be funny.
"JazzâŠjust because I've been busy for a while doesn't mean I'm not still living life, that I'm not having shenanigans. Neighbor John and I just exchanged goods a couple days ago!"
"I don't like that you say goods like," Jazz huffs, searching for the right words, "like you're trading drugs or something."
"How dare you reduce Neighbor John's pumpkin pie to drugs. I'll have you know it was to die for!" Danny sniffs,[...]
These lines, of course, foreshadow Neighbor John being Jason, a Crime Lord who famously beheads 8 drug lords lmao I chose pumpkin simply bc it's one of my specialty desserts to bring to family gatherings.
Chapter 2:
"No, dick," A voice hisses outside his lab. "I am not still heartbroken about Bernard!"
The chapter opening up with Tim lamenting about getting over his break up with Bernard was tongue and cheek, because Tim only meets Danny because he was a little heartbroken (and bored) because of his break up with Bernard lol
"Uhm." Danny squeaks, when the man finally calms down, twitching violently when the man jolts at the sound of Danny's voice.
In quick succession, the other man bangs his knee on a table nearby as he swings himself up, hissing as he he almost topples over. He straightens back up to quickly slam a hand against the light switch by the door, knocking over several other chairs, three books, a singular beaker and an assortment of random tools along the way.
Not sure if anybody connected the dots, but Tim isn't an actual disaster--just only in front of Danny. Tim was only startled, not because of the presence of someone else in the room, but because it was Danny's voice! At this point he was avoiding Danny like the plague via a complex system of phone alerts, so he was not expecting him lol
Mr. Drake wipes a hand down his face, taking one sharp inhale, before letting it go slowly. "It'sâŠfine, Mr. Nightingale."
I also don't know if anybody noticed--Danny never introduced himself, and yet Tim knows his name! Most people probably chalked this up to them being the Waynes and therefore knowing all their employees, but in this case it was because Tim had been stalking Danny for literal years by this point!
"Promise I'm better at keeping secrets than I am at lying, bye!"
There might be chuckles in response, maybe even an actual reply, but Danny is too busy shutting the door behind him and fleeing.
This was also a little cheeky, bc Tim does know this about Danny--despite the fact that he figured out Phantom's identity. On the scale of other heroes hiding their identities, Tim has Danny ranked pretty high on "passable" btw
Chapter 3:
"Sup, how are my two main squeezes?" Tucker's cheerful voice rings in, loud enough that Danny has to move the phone away from his ear. "Everything tubular?"
"That is definitely not how Californians talk." Sam scoffs[...]
Fun Fact! I'm Californian, and I can confirm, this is not how Californians talk.
After all, Danny never actually intended to offer Tim to be his fake boyfriend.
Famous last words, obviously.
Chapter 4:
But now that they've broken the seal apparently, it seems like Tim is actually a more frequent visitor of the basement labs than he thought and Danny has justâŠnever noticed him.
This was, obviously, by design from Tim. Danny proceeds to compare Tim to a bunny, which tickled me pink because bunnys like to hide in burrows---yknow, like how Tim hides from Danny?
It made Danny pity the man, especially when he witnessed young Damian Wayne practically accost Tim about his so-called paramour in front of not one, but four upper managers in the Lobby of WE quite literally two days ago.
This is also a direct foreshadow to Damian going to WE to accost Danny once the "jig is up." Everyone else, up until this point, accosted Tim about the hidden relationship on the phone, and even though Steph is the one that kick starts their fake relationship, Damian is the one to first meet Danny in person on purpose! Everyone else was incidental.
He takes his hero-worship of Bruce Wayne and Lucius with a large grain of salt, so he doesn't feel too disappointed if they prove him wrong one day.
This line makes me laugh because Bruce and Lucius' part in a later chapter is so "salty" coded. They're just crochety old men, fr.
The point is, when he bumped into Tim and caused the man to drop his coffee (thankfully onto the ground) Danny had offered one of his newly acquired pastries in consolation. Tim, either due to being so broken from the phone call, the coffee, or just Too Tired to keep up pretenses any longer, accepted it silently without even a token protest.
I didn't do this on purpose, but Danny drops his coffee in a later chapter, and sends Tim a pic of it, which sort of kick starts their banter with each other, allowing them to be more comfortable, in the same way Tim gets comfortable here! At this point in time, Tim is hounded by the idea that he's going to get caught by his family, and Danny figuring it out might just be the cherry on top that kills him. He also knows with certainty that Danny is Trustworthy, and is working on autopilot. This is why he Tim is so comfortable spilling the beans to him!
"Welcome to the family, Danny!" Steph yells as she runs away from Tim throwingâŠsomething. A shoe? Danny looks down. Yep. One of Tim's very expensive shoes is missing.
Also didn't do this on purpose, but it is kind of funny that this kind of parallels Steph throwing a brick at Tim for stalking her. It's kind of fun that Steph was the reason Tim revealed his identity, but in this fic Steph is the reason the fake relationship starts.
Danny huffs a laugh through his nose, smiling as he crouches down to help Tim put his shoe back on.
I actually wanted to include a bit for this in Tim's POV, where he absolutely tries his best not to shiver/freak out about how prince charming Danny so effortlessly is, but didn't want to take away from Tim's panic. I also didnt think i could balance the romance of it all in tim's POV well enough with his guilt, so i skipped/glossed over it entirely ^^;;;
Chapter 5:
"I am all for rules." Danny gives Tim two thumbs up, lamely. "Consent is sexy."
Tim's eyebrow twitches, making Danny afraid he's crossed a line for a moment before he realizes Tim is trying not to laugh.
The idea of them having a contract was heavily influenced by @haleswallows fic, Cross My Heart (Hope to Die). A while back, they had actually talked to me about legal logistics for it and though it went right over my head it stuck with me anyway! The idea was that tim was already guilty and panicked, and in this fugue of autopilot needed some comfort that Danny knew what he was getting into. Tim laughing, and trying really really hard not to, is kind of a little nod to how tim didnt mean to stalk Danny, but it happened because he's terrible at it, so Danny finds out anyway (and subsequently sees tim trying not to laugh in this scene as a sort of symbolic metaphor)
"Uhm, let's seeâŠ" Danny shakes his head to get it back on track and recalling their story. "We've mostly been in a situationship for like, a year and you've been cagey and I wasn't looking for anything serious anyway so it worked for us."
"Which I'm very sorry about, and will probably be the reason we break up." Tim adds in, taking a sip of the crappy instant coffee Danny had in his cupboard.
Tim trying his best to take the blame in this is his way of repentance, btw!
Thankfully, after a moment Tim clears his throat, keeping his eyes closed as if trying to ignore his own embarrassment. "No, no. You're right. My family knows I tend to cope with stress using physical activities. Normally that would be skateboarding or, well, my family's tendency towards extreme sports butâŠthis would work just as well."
His family considers him a slut, btw. lovingly, of course, but yeah. Tim got bitches, man. They know for damn sure the break ups are never about physical compatibility. Weird thing for a family to know? sure, i guess. not the waynes tho.
"Holding hands. Right." The line of Tim's shoulders relax, ever so slightly, and Danny feels like he's passed some kind of test by the skin of his teeth.
This entire scene was Tim calculating what he can and cannot do, because he'd rather die than do something else that would make Danny uncomfortable. Tim actually is p touchy feeling as a person, but he can get overstimulated p easily so its not out of the norm to not touch his SO. Tim making sure that Danny knows he's the one setting the pace/doing the touching is his way of trying to make this as easy as possible for Danny.
The contract itself is very simple in terms, and lays out all the basics in Tim's surprisingly messy handwriting.
I am weirdly charmed by the idea that Tim has shitty handwriting, btw. I feel like his parents would train it out of him, but like, maybe due to an injury/bad patrol, tim realizes that the waynes dont fucking care, and that for some reason lets him relax and feel a little more accepted in the family. stupid little unrelated thing, but yeah
"I wouldn't blame you." Tim continues, looking for all the world calm and collected as he meets Danny's gaze sincerely. "I've said crazier shit, offered crazier things that I didn't really mean, or regretted a second later. I get it."
I know i've been breaking down quotes like this is an english essay, like everything was part of some big grand plan, but a lot of my writing is just do or go. This part in particular I dont actually know what Tim was thinking. Tim's POV was written concurrently to a lot of these chapters, so its kind of obvious that the little things would reflect each other in small ways. It just made sense. In this little part though, all Danny (and i) could focus on was tim calmly needing Danny to know he had an out, and danny not wanting it.
Chapter 6:
TimothyyyStallion
It's hard to convey a sigh over text
This is the moment Tim realizes that at least over text, he can relax a little bit with Danny!
"You're a meta?" Signal asks, as he follows Danny during the process. "Ice powers?"
It was important to me that someone meet danny whilst in the suit, and duke being the only day time hero made process of elimination p easy. plus, having duke be the reveal that danny is working under the cover of meta status felt kind of poetic.
"I jammed his ice gun a year back." Danny laughs weakly.
a little nod towards his meeting with red robin, another known vigilante. you might have heard of him? :)
FunDanny
my coffee >(
TimothyyyStallion
Danny, why is the road frozen over?
The spilled coffee meme pic that @belfry-ghost drew here was actually just supposed to be a joke. i dont draw, so i was like "am i about to go outside and take a picture of spilled coffee just for this fic?" only for juno to draw this. it was a great time in the HHD server.
Tim twitches, inhaling slowly before letting it go. The other man's hands slide up his arms, one hand gripping his forearm and the other traveling lightly to Danny's chest.
Tim copping a feel just so he can take Danny's pulse is just so funny to me. he could have held danny's hand, and went to his chest instead. "nah, i need direct source" my aaaaaass
Tim clears his throat, as if embarrassed, before pouting adorably. "You never told me you knew Mr. Freeze."
Danny blinks, a little off kilter by the cutest CEO to ever grace his workspace. "I, uh. Well you know how I have those minor ice powers?"
Tim gives him a look, squeezing his arm in a way that not only reminds Danny that Tim is still holding onto him, but also that Tim did not in fact, know this about Danny. Oops.
But Tim hums as if he does know, and so Danny powers on, sweaty and terribly apologetic and trying not to show it. "So uh, Iâhm."
I tried very hard to walk a line here. Because this is Tim re-calibrating what he's supposed to know, but it had to skirt this too knowing expression because i didnt want it to be super obvious to the audience yet. danny emphasizing tim's acting prowess whilst simultaneously making sure tim's work/skills as red robin weren't downplayed was hard. it had to be believable, but obvious at the same time. because i didnt want tim to be reduced to "oh hes a simp that means all his skills are out the window." i wanted him to be capable and sometimes a goober. idk if that makes any sense...
Then one of his coworkers, Anania, slams a hand on his desk.
"What the hell was that, Nightingale?"
I fully intended to flush out Anania as a character, but completely forgot about her. sorry anania!!!
FunDanny
te rom is still spinning
TimothyyyStallion
I'm sorry, Danny. I'll tell the room to stop.
Tim was, in fact, laughing his fucking ass off during this conversation.
"Well now you are aware," Damian crosses his arms again, smirking like he's finally found solid ground. "He has many photos of you. It is embarrassing how much, actually."
another little nod towards tim's stalking over the years. the hc here is that tim never saved photos of danny in an accessible place, but now that he has a cover story for it he went and saved his favorites over the years.
"Dami!" Tim looks a little distraught, like that time when Hurricane Steph plunged them into this facade in the first place. Distantly, Danny thinks that maybe he has this expression exclusively for his family. "I told you not to bother him at work."
"Tt." Damian clicks his tongue, looking less than impressed. "Did you, or did you not bother him at work just yesterday?"
It is very important to me that Tim and Damian have an antagonistic but very loving relationship in this au. i mention it in the spin off, but damian doesn't know how to ask for affection so he pesters tim for it. Dick and Jason already give him that, so damian's never had to ask. But tim has been trained not to invade other peoples spaces, and in fact doesnt like his space invaded though he rarely ever does anything about it. damian notices this, so he picks fights, and it works for both of them that way. in the same vein, tim uses damians nickname even though he doesnt really do nicknames! (throwback to when tim paused before calling danny "babe", because it was an afterthought)
TimothyyyStallion is typing...
this will never not be funny to me. as the audience had expected, tim's thoughts went very "that was an option?" but in the end tim couldnt find an elegant way to say "yes please, send me drunk nudes--" so he gave up
Chapter 7:
tuckthefuck
not too bad
even with sams giant ass hearse
Sam driving a hearse delighted many people, and i am here to tell you i shamelessly copped this from tatumsdrawing's Mechanic AU, its very important to me that you check it out and love it with me, please please please
"âŠI know, Spike." A feminine voice sighs, footsteps and voice coming closer, "Believe me, I know. But it's not the first time Danny has hidden something from me, and it surely won't be the last."
I really wanted Jazz to have friends, so Spike makes an appearance! I mentioned it in the tags before, or AN if you read this on AO3, but he's still punk! Jazz and Danny like to joke that they like having alt rock best friends. Sam and Spike are neutral with each other, but Tucker likes him! Spike listens to EDM on occasion, and him and tuck follow the same artists.
SoftJazzMusic
Enough.
ElectricBOOgaloo
sorry jazz
KillerBod
It was just a joke.
FunDanny
we didnt mean it
Hands down one of my favorite interactions in the entire fic. I've said this before but this little sibling chat was a last minute addition. Vlad's pov was almost cut bc it didnt fit the narrative format, but it was just too funny not to include it so i added this chat last minute. i scrambled to find pfps for dan and ellie, but thankfully the HHD server came in clutch. Juno was doing a lot of heavy lifting, because people kept going crazy and offering to help (seriously still fucking blown by how many people helped made this happen btw, like genuinely sobbing and sick about it, my friends are so cool???) so i kept shuffling which pfps juno was "in charge of." i was constantly in his DMs about it lol.
LiteBrite
ok
so i have met danny, but i havent met danny either
this was also one of the favorite lines. i wrote this entire chapter out of order, and i had the batfam chat written i think a couple chapters before? maybe just one. i cant remember too well, but it was the first thing i had for this chapter.
"I will not be falling for your lies." Tim scoffs, changing the grip of their hands and letting them fall between them.
"But you'll fall for me," Danny smirks, leaning in close for a moment. "Right?"
Tim sputters, smacking at a laughing Danny. Tim turns away, pouting a bit as Danny tries to placate Tim. When that fails, he bargains, grabbing swatches and polishes and pleading with Tim. "Alright I'll stop, I'll stopâsee? I'm picking a color, I promise."
It was sort of established earlier, in tim and danny's texts, but i really wanted to showcase the dynamic between danny and tim here. tim sort of shows his way of loving, or at least a peek of it, with his small little comments of faith in danny. danny suffers from self deprecation in a way that is more understated, so tim's calm confidence in him reinforces danny's capability. meanwhile, danny is very loud in his care, very direct. Tim has to play 5d chess every day, so having danny being plaintive and teasing and silly about it is something that bolsters tim's idea that he can loosen up a bit.
Dick feels a warmth flow over him at the mention of his fiance. His fiance. His fiance!!!
He'll never get tired of that. It's been a long time coming, with a lot of ups and downs and intergalactic politics, but finally, it's happening.
He gets to be Koriander's husband.
He could scream, really. He won't, but it's a near thing, always. He wishes she were here now, but she declined on account of some thing she has with the Outlaws. Jason was laughing at him about it earlier, texting him pictures of his fiance and mocking him.
Jokes on him, he saved all those pictures. Jaybird shows his care in increasingly convoluted ways, and Dick loves his brother for it.
Dick was never meant to be the main point of the story, his wedding was only supposed to be a subplot for it, albeit a very important one. But i didn't want to diminish his own love story, so i tried to make due with these little snippets. loverboy dick is actually one of my favorite things to write, even though i often make dick the scapegoat for a lot of my stories lol.
It matches Danny's eyes, right down to the flecks of hazel.
Dick, starting to see a pattern, puts the polish Danny chose up against Tim's face.
An almost perfect match to Tim's pale blue eyes.
I had to outsource the nail polish colors from my local resident nail polish collector, hales. they went through their massive (and i mean MASSIVE) collection to help me find just the right shades--tim's being jennye by Julep, and danny's being Rigel, by alchemy lacquers. they even did a swatch for me!!! if youre reading this THANK YOU HALES!!!
"No, it's okay." Tim shrugs, holding the polish Danny chose close to his chest. "I'll just pick my usualâblack and white."
Tim absolutely knew what he was doing, by the way. He felt it was only fair, if danny was gonna be wearing his vigilante colors tim could do the same!
"I'm not even sure why you're here, Lucius." Bruce sighs, rubbing a finger against the space between his brows.
I was really nervous about this, because i had mentioned previously that lucius was a good boss to danny in earlier pov, but i never expanded upon it until now. i thought that maybe it would come out as like. too sudden. but i had planned bruce meeting danny, and lucius kind of made his way in there, so. two crotchety old men bickering. i got a couple comments about it, which made me smile, but yes--i used batman beyond's ver of bruce wayne as the blueprint for this bruce! im happy that it conveyed to at least some of you!!
"One year," Lucius can't help but say, "He made a working foldable motorcycle."
I scrambled and googled "smallest motorcycle engine" btw
SoftJazzRadio
OkayâŠso this is a good thing then
SammyWhammy
definitely
tuckthefuck
for sure!
FunDanny
yep
I wanted to remind everyone that Jazz does not know, and that the trio are so Shit at Lying. Remember Danny saying that before? good at secrets but bad at lying!!!
Re: the artwork
ive said this all before, in the artwork collection post, but i really am so very thankful for all the help i got for this fic. it still blows my god damn mind. it humbled me, and made me so thankful for all the people over on the HHD server. I was originally going to use all of mio's valentine's day art, but then it kind of snowballed and spiraled from there. Fen, finn, jay--all of them helped me figure out which artists had which chracters, and in the end i was hopping from dm to dm acting like a little goblin. my original plan was to just get existing art, but more than half of the artists that i asked ended up drawing me new ones! it is still genuinely crazy to me. thank you thank you thank you again!
Chapter 8:
"When you had balance." Tucker picks up the thread. "When you were fulfilling your Obsession."
Danny's obsession was a bit of a sore point for me. Nothing was clicking when it should have, so i ended up making it danny's problem instead of mine. all i really knew is that i didnt want him to have a protection obsession--ive toyed with the idea of doors obsession danny (a la my fic "Knock Knock, Knockin' on the Door") and the idea of balance, but none of them quite fit what i wanted him to focus on in this fic. in the end, a commenter for this very chapter actually gave me the answer i had been looking for, so i made jazz tell danny about it! Shout out to Bl1tzzard on AO3!!
"How many Halfas were there before, anyway?" Tuck leans into Danny, the weight of him is comforting, especially so when Sam adds herself into it.
"Sixty seven, before Vlad." Danny rolls his eyes.
Fun fact, i actually did a quick time event in the HHD server for how many halfa's came before danny. valen, another member, chose 68 without knowing what it was for in order to avoid the funny number, which inadvertently made vlad the 69th halfa. we had a real good laugh about that, before i changed it so that danny could have the honor instead!
"I am not a child." Tim hisses, which causes Danny to jump.
I didnt really intend for tim and danny's first fight to be written. the main goal of this segment was for tim and danny to be "walked in on" by alfred, but i realized that the would be in any compromising positions if they were left alone, so i had to do something to make that happen. So, a fight. making tim ornery bc of his lack of sleep seemed to be the easiest thing to do, and so here we are!
Tim crumples. Danny takes the tablet and opens his arms, Tim falling in like puzzle piece.
"I'm allergic to pineapples." Tim mumbles into Danny's chest, hands clutching at the back of Danny's shirt.
This is the moment that Tim truly realizes that he has no control over the situation. he is in love with danny, and he's realizing with a sort of horror that danny might like him too. he lives with a guilt complex constantly on his back, and this feels like, to tim, the thing that will break him. i made him allergic to pineapples without really thinking about it, but in hindsight it's kind of apt. it hurts him to use the safeword, it hurts him not to use the safeword. lose/lose situation
"No, I thought I'd just surprise you." Tim softly says as Danny comes to a stop before him. He glances at the big doors to WE, before going on his tippy toes as he pulls Danny down by his jacket to give him a gentle, lingering kiss on the cheek. "Is that okay? Do youâŠwant pineapples orâŠ"
"Noâno, I. I'm not hungry. It's more than okay." Danny says, because he'll agree to anything Tim says if he gives him kisses like that, even if he's dead on his feet.
Tim looks into his eyes, searching for something, but seems to deem his answer good enough. He's ushered into the passenger seat and whisked away.
this is the part where tim fully resolves to tell danny the truth. he spent his day trying to make up with danny, feeding him when he could, putting up glow in the dark stars in dannys room at the penthouse, picking him up without an audience--tim is trying to be and feel genuine for danny. hes never been untruthful with his interactions with danny, but this time it feels intentional in a way thats he tries to hide their private moments instead of showing them to prove something. offering their safeword back to danny is tims way of gauging whether he's allowed to be genuine in private.
Tim squeezes his hand, tight, but his voice is hesitant. "Still not hungry?" Is this okay?
Both of them coming to realize that something has to change in this chapter is kind of pivotal, because the wedding will change everything, and i really wanted to hammer in the safeword bc it had barely been mentioned since its first appearance in the contract scene, and though i didnt know it yet, it becomes a very important thing for the next chapter.
The eighth attempt is when an explosion punches a hole into the roof of the venue, and a woman with long black hair and a concerningly skin tight metal looking outfit underneath a sort of black bodysuit and knee high black boots floats above them with a saucy little smirk.
Blackfire and Slade were very whimsical ideas. I was talking about which rogues could crash the wedding with @deathlysilent13, and we just kind of tossed ideas out. the Moth guy's daughter was also one of the options, but ultimately i made a joke about slade/blackfire, and both of us said "bet." They've written a full on spin off of them, so please be sure to check it out when it comes out! You can subscribe to the series on AO3 :)
"Batwing!" Someone near his ear screams, which explains the different skin color, but doesn't give him any relief like it does to the people around him.
On that vein, deathly is the person who has shown me the light on this idea. bc its bullshit, actually, that duke is the ONLY day time vigilante. Luke has a fucking GLOWING SUIT he should get to be day shift with duke!!! a million vigilantes and only ONE day shifter??? get outta here
But the most important thing is Tim laying beneath him looking like the world has come crashing down.
"âŠPhantom." Tim whispers back, as if compelled to despite the reluctanceâas if in pure reflex.
we learn in the next chapter that it isnt reflex, but careful reciprocation on tim's part. danny giving into his feelings before this is normal progression, its classic hallmark. but tim giving into his feelings is a much heavier responsibility, so danny is left confused and bereft whilst tim does the only thing he feels he deserves: isolate the problems, and fix it. at first, it's the rogue attack. when the chapter ends, you realize its also tim--that tim thinks hes the problem, and hes scared, so he leaves.
Chapter 9:
But Tim, and subsequently Daisy, is nothing if not thorough, so. She covers her mouth and tries not to 'throw up'.
Tim's insistence that he keep up a cover that only he knows the specifics of comes to bite him in the ass later. It's the aspect of him that compells him to make a contract with danny, to constantly recalibrate their relationship within parameters that he establishes, etc.
It's a nice change, it's a success that Tim can look back on when the going gets roughâthat people have fought the good fight, and have come out the other end better for it. He lets Daniel live his life, and silently hopes Tim will get a similar kind of happy end. It's a lofty hope, but hope comes in many different flavorsâhope like Superman, or Batman, or Phantom.
I know a lot of the audience opinion is that tim is just "haha stalker" but it was really important to me that tim wasn't just a stalker. I really really really wanted to emphasize that even though tim was crossing boundaries, he genuinely didn't mean to. he checks in on his past cases regularly for his mental health, and danny just happened to be a success story that resonated with him--retired, bad relationship with his parents but still loving, close with his siblings and friends, a vigilante. the similarities, and subsequently the very different way things turned out for both of them, practically beg tim to look. to check in. to see that someone like tim can get a happy ending.
And then, two years later, government buildings start to mysteriously collapse.
It's a very eventful four months. Especially so when Tim realizes who is responsible for the collapses.
This is when Tim realizes he's kind of absolutely fucked.
Tim being invested at this point is now a Problem. Because tim also blew up a bunch of terrible buildings (LOA, obvs) and as we see in the next part, its for a very very good reason.
Maybe some part of him knew something was wrong when he had gone undercover as Daisy for funsies.
Maybe some part of him saw something, something that wasn't concerning enough to do anything about, but gave him enough of a gut feeling that he felt the need to keep tabs on the other hero.
Yeah, that's probably it.
"I mean," Red mutters out loud to himself as he places the papers back where they belong, "my gut wasn't wrong. Look at the situation now."
The situation being a government agency getting their buildings blown up by Phantom and his friends, and a law that needs to be repealed urgently without revealing his involvement.
The room, predictably, does not answer back or even acknowledge his actually very reasonable statement.
Clearly, he needs to listen to his gut more. That, and not talk to himself.
Tim talking to himself is something i find hilarious. I had to rewrite this entire chunk, but did NOT want to get rid of the "clearly he needs to listen to his gut more" bit, so i actually worked really hard to make it like, make sense lmao re wrote it like, three times, just bc i liked the joke
Tim, now twenty six and a little less delusional, wants to die.
So anyway im really funny.
Red takes the little sculpture offered to him, and wishes it weren't so impermanent. His brain calculatesâhe knows Phantom has ghost ice, which melts at an exponentially slower rate than regular ice. It's also sturdier so Red doesn't need to treat it like it's delicate, but he does so anyway because he's a simp and pathetic.
It's a small little thing, but in the next chapter, there's a moment where tim comes out of his panic attack because of his "curiousity" re: the ecto-ice. A lot of people are correct in thinking that tim's curiousity overrides his panic, but in this case it's a slightly to the left--tim blinks out of his panic bc he knows about ecto ice already, but has never touched it before. theres very little information on it--especially since danny was already learning to use regular ice by the time he meets red robin. so him blinking out of his panic was actually because he's recalibrating his information bank, something he does almost reflexively as red robin!
As if the Universe agrees, one of the chunks of frozen bank cracks right above where Danny is standing.
this entire "dance" sequence was written by carefully reading and rereading the corresponding "dance" in the wedding scene.
"I could be your fake boyfriend." And in a moment of weakness he entertains the idea because his family is getting really close to discovering the truth.
It's a long moment of weakness. Butâbut that's not fair to Danny, so Tim musters up the courageâ
And then Hurricane Steph arrives, causing everything to spiral out of control yet again.
He stares at the contract in his hand, at Danny's loopy little signature at the bottom.
His life is in shambles.
Tim having a long moment of weakness was really important to me, because tim offering the out to danny in the contract writing scene (about saying stupid things all the time) was basically him telling on himself.
He throws the resin sculpture into the trash, and takes long frantic steps to the fridge.
He pulls out the box, yanks out the sculpture, and holds it in his hands. The box tumbles onto the floor and the clatter of it would be jarring if he caredâif he could feel anything. His hands turn red enough that frostbite might be a genuine concern, if the ice sculpture weren't so small. The water drips into a puddle at his feet and TimâTim can't help but let his tears join the mess.
"Pineapples," He whispers to himself, words lost into emptiness of the room as his hands clutch at nothing, "and myrrh."
I think there should be something said about tim punishing himself by taking away the two things that gave him comfort in his relationship with danny, in watching one of them melt into nothing and only then saying the safeword, but i wont. bc im not that mean.
Chapter 10:
"It's more of aâŠ" Jazz winces. "Well, a situationship, for lack of a better term."
From the very beginning of the fic, i mostly stayed true in my convictions that jazz never finds out about dannys fake relationship. but there was a point in time, actually, where Tim was way more of a stalker and more psychopathic. this little hint of jazz/jason is a remainder of that, and i expand on this later, at the end of this directors cut!
"Why didn't he bring you as a date?" Danny mulishly tries to change the subject. "I recall some other red head going with him."
This is artemis, btw!
Tim watches as DannyâPhantom disappears right before his eyes. Thermals reveal a cold spot, but it's minute, formless like a wisp of air.
He swallows, swinging back up to the rooftops to make his way to the Nest, adamantly not thinking about the parallels of Orpheus and Eurydice.
He doesn't look back a single time, but it's only because he keeps tricking himself into thinking the icy wind is Phantom's comforting touch.
I was afraid that this greek myth reference would stand out too much, but im a huge myth buff, so it just kind of came out naturally. i didnt choose this like, on purpose, as in i went searching for a myth that fit them, but i look at it now and think "wow. huh." because it fits. tim has lost something and even though danny came to find him, the onus is on tim trusting that danny is following him, that danny is still there, and he does. he does. and so later, just as they do in this metaphor, they succeed in getting each other back.
"Iâ" Tim brokenly croaks, "It gave me comfort."
Danny doesn't think, immediately tries to deposit the resin sculpture into Tim's hand but Tim shakes his head vehemently. He pushes Danny's hand away, as if he doesn't deserve it.
Stubbornly, Danny creates a new one out of ecto-ice, quicker and smoother now that he doesn't have to pretend.
this moment is kind of pivotal. because this is tim admitting his feelings, and danny immediately giving it to him. tim rejects it at first, which makes danny offer something else, and tim is helpless but to accept it. its a whole big ass metaphor to their relationship, really.
"So." Danny ventures when Tim has fully melted into him. "Bruce Wayne is a crime fighting furry, huh?"
You can pry this joke out of my cold dead hands. i will always bring it up in my fics. its my signature even. if youre tired of it too bad. im never letting it go.
"âŠPlease." Tim finally decides on. Which makes Danny's heart go into overdrive. "I would really like it if you were my real boyfriend."
It's kind of the first time tim asks danny for anything, i think? im pretty sure at least. which is p cute if i do say so myself.
"Okay Sweetheart, now that the serious talk is over how about we go to bed?" Danny makes sure to stay calm, to make it sound like an enticing offer and not the plea it so badly wants to be. He makes his voice lilt, a little sad and pouty. "I haven't slept well at all without you, you know?"
A reprise from their first fight! :D
"We're never telling Jason or Jazz, right?" Tim sleepily slurs in his arms, just before Nocturne takes him. "That our relationship was fake?"
"Never." Danny grunts, wrapping his arms around Tim and squeezing. "Never ever."
like i said before, hallmark au was supposed to be a very different kind of fic. the original idea of this fic was supposed to be "Danny POV = hallmark au, Tim POV = the usual suspects, 56 days kind of style where he manipulates events so that danny would offer to be his fake boyfriend and tim purposefully tries to get him to fall in love with him" The running bit was that jason and jazz know something is off, that tim is suspicious, but danny insists that nothing is happening. meanwhile, you as the reader know in tims pov (meant to be an epilogue) that it was all him--it was him all along. but i wasnt smart enough to pull it off, so i had to rewrite tim's pov entirely, and edit the preceeding chapters to make sure nothing was off. @ashleyreyland tried really really hard for me to do two different Tim POVs--because i was stuck between the kubrick!tim and this accidental hallmark!tim. in the end i thought it was funnier if tim became accidental boyfriends with his stalkee, so. here we are, but i couldnt help myself--these last lines serve as a little homage to that ;)
I actually have little snippets left from that version, so if you want me to post those let me know--this directors cut turned out to be much longer than i actually anticipated, and im not even sure if anybody beyond the residents of the "bully mimi" thread in the HHD server even wants to read this lol
this fic kind of blew up, and genuinely yall give me so much credit for it that i just felt like i kinda had to prove it a little bit, so hopefully you like it.
thanks so much for reading, ill see ya'll next time, in another universe ;)
Hello!! this is a surprise oneshot spin off of my Dead Tired Fake Dating AU, Ten Steps To Get Your Man (and maybe keep him too).
You might not understand this without reading that one first!
===
Jazz scrubs at her hands angrily, mad that some of the ecto got under her fingernails.
Not a single drop of ecto or blood on her clothes, but of course it gets under her fingernails.
The absolute worst.
"You know it'll come right out with warm water right?" Dan rumbles from the driver's seat. "Just wait until we get to Danny's."
Jazz closes her eyes. He's right of course, but that doesn't make the irritation go away. She takes in a deep breath, holds it for a long moment, before letting it all go.
Her shoulders slump, and she rolls her head on the headrest to look at her so-called older brother. "But it's icky."
Dan snorts. "Now you're sounding like Ellie."
"She got that from me." Jazz grins, laughing in tandem with Dan as he cuts a quick glance at her.
They're in one of Vlad's cars, stolen for a reckless joy ride after breaking a couple of his bones. Vlad won't say anything of course, he has a multitude of other cars and she's sure Dan will probably portal it back in more or less pristine condition.
Dan has always had a complicated relationship with Vlad, but he's entirely loyal to his siblings, so she won't begrudge him this little kindness.
If Jazz is being honest, at this moment in time she doesn't actually think Vlad planted the bugs in Danny's apartment at all.
If she's being really honest, she realized Vlad didn't do it the second she and Dan arrived at his house.
Still, they were already there.
Plus, they found out he still kept a lot of creepy shots of Danny from when he did plant bugs around their childhood home, before Danny moved to Chicago with Jazz.
Her apology gift for accusing him of bugging Danny's apartment was not killing him for that.
"You gonna stick around with Ellie?" Jazz says into the comfortable silence between them. The radio hums low, a murmuring type of volume, harmonizing with the sounds of the road rumbling underneath them.
Dan thinks on that for a moment, keeping his eyes on the road as he merges towards a freeway connection. "Depends on the tyke, I think."
"You haven't really hung out with her that much." Jazz tries to keep her voice light-hearted.
It's a small hope she and Danny have had, that their two siblings would pair bond together. When the four siblings had established a connectionâwhen Dan was put on parole and Ellie had stopped to consider the logistics of being a real person after the Anti-ECTO Acts were repealed, it wasâŠrocky, to say the least.
Dan, having lost his entire family, was near obsessive about his care for Jazz. In contrast Ellie, then still Dani, clung to Danny like a security blanket whenever she touched down upon Earth.
Neither Jazz nor Danny knew how to navigate it, because Jazz couldn't fathom leaving Danny behind and Danny couldn't fathom being relied upon so heavily.
It spoke a lot to how much pressure Jazz felt, and how little Danny thought of himself.
You always knew better, her little brother had mumbled when they finally sat down just the two of them to talk about it, you always were better.
And it ached, to understand him. It tore a hole in her heart.
I'm only two years older, Jazz's voice had trembled back, and I don't know if I'll ever have kids when IâŠ
They had cried, of course. Danny from the guilt and Jazz from the feeling of inadequacy.
Both of them worked it out, but that still left Dan and Ellie.
They made leaps and bounds of course, the four of them as close as can be as adults with their own agendas. But Ellie was always off and about, spending Vlad's money, and DanâŠ
Well, Dan is being trained as the next monarch of the Realms.
It's framed as penance for destroying the world, a reformation at the Core. It's punishment, shouldering responsibility that Danny doesn't want and acting as a replacement forevermore. It's convoluted and stupid when you spell it out plainly, because how could giving him more power be considered jail?
But Jazz knows that Dan will rarely ever get to leave the Realms once he's been established on the throne. He'll rarely get to see her. And she doesn't have as long to live as her siblings do.
"She's doesn't really stay still long enough to." Dan's voice shakes her out of her melancholy, shrugging his big shoulders at her. "But I join her sometimes, on her travels."
"That's great," Jazz smiles, feeling light and airy, before adopting a stern pout, "how come we don't get pictures?"
Dan scrunches his nose, a distinctly Danny sort of gesture that makes her heart ache a little. "You do, I'm just not in 'em. I'm the one taking them."
That makes sense, now that Jazz thinks about it. Ellie has an instagram she updates mostly for the 'Nightingale Clan' as she calls them, and sometimes there will be a long string of pan out shots of her when usually she sticks to landscapes and selfies. Jazz assumed that Ellie was having strangers take them, but now she can re-contextualize those photos and smile back on them with the proper amount of appreciation.
"Next time, take a selfie." Jazz practically pleads. "You don't even have to post it, just send it to me."
"Not to the groupchat?" Dan smirks, easing them off the highway into Gotham proper.
"Just to me." Jazz bargains.
Dan makes a thoughtful noise, before shrugging carelessly once more. "If I remember."
Success floods her veins like no other, and it shows with her wide smile. It doesn't even diminish when they finally arrive at Danny's, and Ellie and Dan decide not to stick around
It's hard not to keep the smile when Ellie replaces her in the passenger seat and promptly declares "Sibling Switch!"
Jazz waves goodbye at them, watching the car disappear into Gotham before turning around to head up into Danny's apartment. She has duplicates of all her siblings' keysâEllie's keys being the ones that admitted Dan and Jazz into Vlad's stupid mansionâso she decides to make a pit stop at the mailboxes to grab Danny's mail on the way up.
A man is already there, lingering in front of an opened mailbox and shuffling through them quietly. Jazz walks up, trying not to encroach on the guy's personal space and thankful when he smoothly steps to the side and closes his box to make more room for her.
He pockets his keys, but stays there to read through something that looks like an important legal document. Jazz pays him no mind as she opens Danny's box to grab what looks like an assortment of letters. She shakes her head. Danny checks his mail once a week, which is a bad habit she's never really approved of.
"Oh," The man's voice jolts her out of the speech she was planning on scolding Danny with.
She almost drops the letters, but thankfully manages to get everything in hand and the box shut again before she turns to lift an eyebrow at the man.
"Sorry," The man shrugs, a little sheepish. "You're Danny's sister, right? The older one."
"Jazz." She confirms, tucking the letters under her arm. "How do you know my brother?"
"I'm John." The man introduces himself, tucking his own letters into his back pocket before extending a hand to shake. "Or Jason, if he's told you yet."
"Ah, the baker." Jazz smiles, shaking his hand with a firm grip that he seems to appreciate. "And the brother."
"Both." Jason grins, and it's boyish and handsome.
There's a short pause between them, that sort of awkwardness that always happens between strangers that aren't actually strangers.
Jazz takes the plunge. "Did your brother hiding his relationship with my brother also kind of bother you? Or was that just me?"
Jason snorts, sudden like even he's surprised by it. "Sorry, uh. Timmers and I don't have the same kind of relationship you guys do, I don't think."
Jazz slumps. "I was afraid you'd say that."
"If it helps I can beat my brother up for you." Jason smirks. "Free of charge, it's the least I could do for my friend's beloved sister."
Jazz blushes, always pleased to hear when other people acknowledge her and Danny's closeness. They were all each other had for a period in time. "That's very kind of you, but I'm not sure I condone sibling violence."
"I'm pretty sure something violent is happening upstairs," Jason hums, looking up as if he can see through towards Danny's apartment. "There was a lot of yelling about mouse traps and cheese."
"He knows Ellie hates that game but he always brings it out." Jazz rolls her eyes, which gets a hearty chuckle. "I'm pretty sure he just likes tussling with herâlike a love language or something."
"Two of my brothers are like that too," Jason hums, thoughtful. "The little demonâI mean, my little brother Damian likes to fuck with Tim's stuff even though he knows it pisses him off."
"Nothing permanent?" Jazz tilts her head inquiry.
"Nah, little shit." Jason shakes his head. "Like replacing his coffee with decaf, or going through his WE docs and putting a single page out of order."
"Attention seeking." Jazz hums, eyes going a little half lidded. "His own little way of showing he cares, perhaps."
"It's the only time they touch. Dami's definitely gotten a rough hug or two out of it, and Tim's not a complete idiot so he's probably aware." Jason nods, putting a hand on his hip and eyeing Jazz not very subtly at all. "Do you psychoanalyze all the brothers of the guys you meet, or am I special?"
There's a coaxing tint to his voice, like he's testing the waters, but his body stays open and ready to back off. Hm. This time, Jazz takes her own look, dragging her eyes from the tip of his boots all the way up to his turquoise eyes. There's a faint scar, under his eye, jagged but mostly faded.
Jazz licks her lips and finds herself very satisfied when it draws Jason's eyes.
Well. Fascinating.
"Sure, you're special." Jazz smiles, innocent as can be as Jason seems to perk up little a little dog. "You're very important to my brother you knowâyou and those empanadas."
Jason blinks, before throwing his head back in a laugh. Jazz follows the long line of him and decides that if her brother can have fun, she can have a little harmless fun too.
He really is quite handsome when he smiles that rakish smile of his.
ya'll can thank the HHD discord for this one. Specifically the menace known as @clockwayswrites (and @impyssadobsessions for the art that inspired the damn thing)
Dead on Main and with some future Val/Steph >)
also @belfry-ghost did a doodle for this AU and everyone should go love on his art. Val's so unf.
===
Valâs pretty sure her new boss Jay is actually a crime lord.
Sheâs pretty sure heâs The Crime Lord, actually. Sheâs like, 98% sure she works for Red Hood now, and sheâs low key mad about it. She squints at the man now, with his white streak and almost imperceptible green sheen to his eyes.Â
The problem is that Val did perceive it. Because she used to date a guy whose baby blue eyes changed ever so slightly in the same way. Thinking about Danny makes her even madder.
To be clear, sheâs not mad about Red Hood himself.Â
Sheâs just mad that, of all the mechanic shops in all of Crime Alley, she just had to work for her ex-boyfriendâs third place Hall Pass pick. It also makes her miss her friends way more, and Val is hardly what one would call a well-adjusted woman, so sheâs mad about it.
She huffs as she lifts the hood of the second car sheâs working on today. Being a mechanic wasnât really on the docket for Valâs life goals, nor was being in Gotham, but she got a full ticket ride on Wayne Foundation scholarships, and honestly?Â
Gotham is Amity Park Lite: Gargoyles and Furries Edition.Â
Between a full ride to Gotham U and being stuck at Elmerton Community College? The choice was easy.Â
So here she is, working for the resident Crime Lord in his civvies.Â
Jay pays good, teaches her what she needs to know, and bonus: he sometimes helps with her English Literature class. Heâs flexible on hours, and sheâs even got rudimentary insurance.Â
All in All? It could be worseâshe could still be working for Vlad, after all.Â
During a recent round of @bloggerspam Bully Hours i made a play on words about something she had said, resulting in a statement that i would love if a specific podficcer did a podfic of one of their works.
The moment i hit send i realized how true that was, so when Mimi said her stuff was hard to podfic, i took it as a challenge. one thing led to another, and in short i'm announcing:
Mechanic!Val AU, Fully Voiced Podfic Edition.
The plan is to podfic the entire series, with all of the dialog being voice acted separately from the narration, ideally with no main character voice overlap.
I'm currently working to confirm exactly what voices i need and how many words each one entails, but i figured i'd go ahead and throw a post up to start gathering interested parties.
This is not going to be paid, both because i have no money, and for all the reasons that bookbinding is controversial, no one is going to be making any money from this. Do not attempt to find a way to give me money for this.
If you are interested in voicing one of the following characters, please shoot me a DM and indicate which character you would like to voice. Characters marked with (e) by their names feature in the explicit entries in the series, so if you are interested in voicing one of those characters please also indicate if you are comfortable voicing said character in the explicit entries as well. i would like to do them for completeness, but naturally that's not something to which everyone will be comfortable lending their voices.
I will likely personally take the role of narrator, unless someone better suited expresses interest.
Main Characters
Danny Fenton (e)
Jason Todd (e)
Stephanie Brown (e)
Valerie Gray (e)
Sam Manson
Tucker Foley
Dick Grayson
Clark Kent
Lois Lane
Jazz Fenton
Wes Weston
Narrator (e)
Ten Steps To Getting Your Man (and maybe keeping him too)
"You've been working too hard, you know that?" Jazz's voice adopts that soothing tone, the one she uses for work when she breaks hard hitting truths to her patients and know that they won't handle it well. "When was the last time you went out?"
Danny opens his mouth to shoot a pithy reply, exhausted from a long day at work, but Jazz's voice interrupts him sternly. "When was the last time you had fun?"
Danny's mouth clicks shut, and he winces at how it echoes in the room. He slumps further into his arm chair, sighing as he takes off his WE work lanyard and tosses it on the coffee table. His apartment in Gotham is decently sized, being paid well as a civic engineer, but it's a far cry from being spacious.
Still, it feels entirely too empty with just him in his lonely little living room.
"I want to sayâŠ2015?" Danny finally settles on, pressing the speaker button on his phone and plopping that onto the coffee table as well. "That was the year Sam and I TP'd Lancer's house, right?"
"I thought you said that wasn't you." Danny can just imagine the face Jazz is making as she says this: brows furrowed, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose, eyes closed like she's trying to find her patience and failing, and of courseâyes, the gusty sigh of an older sister crackling over the phone. "And that was 2017."
"Ah, well, Sam and I were certainly doing something when the TP-ing happened so." Danny loftily waves a hand towardsâŠsomewhere. "Anymore of this and I might have to call my lawyer."
"All this does is prove my point." Jazz deadpans, tired of his shit.
"Really?" Danny pretends to be confused. "I thought it was proving mine."
"JustâŠtry? For me?" Jazz implores, switching tracks and pleading with him now. Damn, she knows he's weak to that tone of voiceâJazz hardly ever pleads. "Go out for coffee with a colleague, help someone out with those weirdly specific skills of yours!"
"I don't wanna hear any slanderâyou've benefited more than once from those weirdly specific skills!" Danny cuts in.
"When was the last time you rode that stupid scooter of yours?" Jazz shoots back. "Theâthe raspberryâ"
"It's the Blueberry thank you very muchâ"
"Well take the Blueberry and goâgo on a trip around Gotham! Plan an elaborate prank on your Team that takes way too many steps and whacky inventions and very complicated liesâanything to get out of the house."
"It's an apartment," Danny mumbles sulkily, his already fatigued body slumping in defeat, "and, ugh, fine. I'll try. I didn't think I'd ever see the day my responsible Big Sister would encourage me to cause mayhem."
"I'm not encouraging mayhem." Jazz argues. "But you'reâyou're not as chaotic as you usually are. Do I want you to be safe and make good choices? Yes. But that doesn't mean you have to-to change. I'm not saying you have to have shenanigans every day, but the fact that I haven't heard about any in weeks, months, maybe even longer isâŠ"
"You make it sound like my Obsession is Chaos." Danny weakly jokes. "Need I remind you my Obsession isâ"
"I just worry about you, Danny." Jazz interrupts, voice going a little low as she always does when she tries to explain her actions so Danny doesn't feel imposed upon. "With Sam busy over in Metropolis, and Tucker all the way in Jump CityâŠit feels like all you do is work and sleep. When was the last time you gave something an unnecessary upgrade or-or just took something apart just to see if you could put it back together again?"
Danny glances behind him, at the little work desk he has set up in the dining room area. It's custom, the very first thing he built when he got to Gotham in the two weeks he had free before starting his new job.
It's immaculate, cleared of any detritus seeing as Danny does not want to be anything like his parents were: callous with their experiments and letting their work bleed out into the other areas of his childhood home.
There's a row of drawers underneath it, varying in sizes and depth housing all of his tools fit snug between the bottom of the tabletop with the bottom plank attached to the bottom of the table's legs on the left-hand side. A shelf bisects the right-hand side, where his inventions live out of the way.
It's supposed to feel neat, and with a nicely placed tablecloth, can serve as a dinner table if need be.
Now, looking at it through the lens of his older sister's concern, Danny sees how dusty and lonely it looks. He remembers thinking to himself when putting up that shelf for his inventions that he'd have to hurry and think of a solution when it was full, not knowing it still isn't even remotely needed now with only three gadgets on the shelf.
Now, looking at it through the lens of a lonely workaholic, Danny sees how much it mirrors his own current state.
For a moment, he sees what Jazz is trying to tell himâsees it in the dust motes and moody lighting, neglected and shoved to the side masquerading as something else for the time being.
But it's only for a moment. Because even if he's a little lonely, that doesn't mean he's alone no matter what Jazz says.
He likes his life here in Gothamâhis neighbors leave baked goods at Danny's doorstep whenever they're experimenting for new stock for their bakery, and Danny makes the concentrated effort to get better at cooking in order to leave his overwhelming leftovers in exchange.
Lucius is a good boss, the other employees at WE are good and friendly peopleâthey have drinks on the odd Friday or Saturday, depending on if a rogue attack breaks out around their chosen karaoke bar.
Danny even has a sort of bro-ship understanding going on with Mr. Freeze! Sure, the rogue is under the wrong impression that Danny's a meta with ice powers, but it's something colorful about his life!
"I just." Jazz sighs over the phone, voice going smaller and smaller. "This isn't what I meant, when I said you had to grow up."
Danny smiles helplessly, realizing the crux of the problem now. "JazzâŠjust because I've been busy for a while doesn't mean I'm not still living life, that I'm not having shenanigans. Neighbor John and I just exchanged goods a couple days ago!"
"I don't like that you say goods like," Jazz huffs, searching for the right words, "like you're trading drugs or something."
"How dare you reduce Neighbor John's pumpkin pie to drugs. I'll have you know it was to die for!" Danny sniffs, mouth watering at the memory of the spices in the pie that made it so good. "Plus, me, Sam and Tuck video call each other every fortnight!"
Danny was even proud of the samosas he scrounged up and left on Neighbor John's doorstep just yesterday in exchange! He lost like, 3 hours of sleep over it since he came home pretty late, but it turned out amazing, thanks very much.
"The death jokes still aren't funny, you know." Jazz mutters, but Danny has known her all his lifeâthere's definitely a smile somewhere in there even if he can't see it.
"That's your opinion." Danny smirks, pushing himself up off the couch and grabbing his phone to head to the kitchen. Thinking about those samosas got him hungry, and thankfully he still has some left over. "The point is, even if I'm not causing chaos and committing minor crimes, it doesn't mean I'm completely alone and bereft."
Jazz hums in acknowledgement, sobering up a little and probably realizing how crazy it is that she's trying to encourage that side of him out ofâŠwhat, worry that Danny's fundamentally changed?
"Have I been busy?" Danny shrugs, tapping his fingers as he waits for his leftover to crisp up. "Yes. Have I been lonely? Sure, I guess I haven't had a date in a while. Am I depressed? Well, how is that any different from before?"
Jazz huffs. "I thought you were trying to assuage my worries, not exacerbate them."
Danny laughs, a little lost. When this conversation first started, he didn't understand what the hell she was trying to get at. For their entire lives she's been trying to get him to be more mature, to use his talents more, to be more focused. And now she, what, wants Danny to be a kid again? Be less busy? Neither of those things can actually happen right this second.
She knows that, he knows that, so Danny tries to parse it all out. Because at the end of the day, Jazz is Jazzâshe worries about him, and her worry is a well worn and comfortable blanket on his shoulders.
They sit together in silence for a moment, as Danny carefully picks and chooses his next steps.
"Look." Danny finally says, pressing the button to shut off the air fryer after the timer dings. "My last project is just about at the end stages. I gotta do the final presentation on it and coordinate with my team on how it's gonna be forwarded to the big shots upstairs, but after that I'm basically free."
There's a shuffle over the line, probably Jazz adjusting herself as she listens to his consolations.
"I promise I'll take a break, okay?" Danny takes a bite, his voice muffling as it fills with spice and heat and potato. "I'll even take a couple days off, maybe portal over and visit?"
"Don't talk with your mouth full." Jazz tiredly replies, before sighing. "Alright. After your project is done, come visit. What are you thinking, next week? Two?"
Danny hums, a little unsure. He hasn't started his presentation, and whilst he has an abundance of notes to help supplement it, it's not organized enough that he can really estimate with confidence how long it will take. He swallows, and makes a face. "Maybe longer than that. I gotta squeeze in some time for shenanigans after all, maybe do a little breaking and entering or something."
Jazz laughs. "I have a conference I have to fly out to for a couple of days this week. " Papers rustle over the line, Jazz probably looking through her documents. "But after that I should be back to my regular schedule for the foreseeable future so just let me know about two days ahead, please."
"Two days ahead." Danny confirms, as he shuffles to grab a glass of water, "Plenty of time for you to make an itinerary so you won't ask me impossible questions."
Jazz scoffs, back on more solid footing: well worn sibling arguments. "Asking what you want to eat for dinner is not asking the impossible of you."
"I'd argue that it's asking a lot of me, Big Sis," Danny sniffs, affecting a snooty tone. "It's your turf, how can you expect me to know what's available in your area?"
"With how many times you've visited me? Oh!" Jazz's voice goes a little saccharine, "Or is it that you've forgotten everything since it's been so long?"
Danny pouts. "Hey now, aren't I fixing that this very phone call?"
Jazz hums, neither confirming nor denying. Which, ouch.
"You handle the food," Danny bargains, "And I'll bring the amazing stories about my new adventures to entertain you the entire time?"
"Sounds like a plan, Little Brother." Jazz grins, palpable even through the tinny speakers. "Can't wait."
"Can't wait." Danny echoes back with a grin of his own, stuffing his mouth with more samosas as he finally changes the subject to something less involved in his life. "Heyâdo you think the Bats have a suggestion box? I have some opinions on Nightwing's outfit. The lack of pockets and utility belt concerns me."
Danny swallows his samosa, and burps before continuing. "Also, Tuck thinks he might be using one of those silicone butts but I think there's too much muscle definition going on there for it to be fake."
After a long moment, Jazz sighs.
Read on AO3! (Updates will be given on tumblr as well)
"No, dick," a voice hisses outside his lab, "I am not still heartbroken about Bernard!"
Danny winces at the passing thought that he might have to weather out an angry phone call just outside his door. Clockwork knows that he'd never, Gods forbid, ask someone to please take their call elsewhere more private.
He knows Sam or Val would in a heartbeat, but Danny only occasionally has a heartbeat, so he's allowed to pass. Tucker would have stopped everything he was doing to listen in on the obvious tea, but Danny drinks coffee, so. Once again, pass.
He shakes his head, trying to focus on the presentation he's supposed to be working on and miserably failing.
"It's been literal yearsâand we're still just friends," the voice continues, noticeably closer but thankfully a little more calmer. A moment passes, as the voice presumably waits for the other person to talk. "No, I do not need you to set me up on a blind date. Again."
A sigh blows out, loud enough for Danny to hear that unfortunately, the person has decided to lean against Danny's door. He checks the time and jolts, realizing that it's already 7:32pm and he's been working in the dark sinceâwhen did the sun go down?
A quick search says a little less than 2 hours ago. Shit.
His lab must look empty from the outside, and now he's stuck in here. Or worse, the person might come in and find himâthis lab is a public lab after all, used by at least three different teams on a loose communal schedule.
"What's wrong with going to your wedding alone?" The voice asks, sounding world weary. "Besides, I'm a groomsmanâwon't I just be paired up with one of Cory's bridesmaids anyway?"
Danny makes a list of pros and cons about whether or not it's advisable to turn into Phantom and fleeâah, no that won't work. There's cameras all over WE. They'd glitch, so he's not concerned about being caught, but Danny doesn't want to risk it anyway. Gotham has those Bats running around, so you can never really be too careful.
He's not illegal anymore, but he doesn't want to test Batman's "no metas in Gotham" rule. He's not technically a meta after all.
"What? No, what the hell?" The voice suddenly flusters, and to Danny's keen hearing there's a flurry of motion, like someone flailing their arms. "DickâDick! Listen. To. Me. I am not hiding someone from you guys okay?"
It's here that Danny realizes that Dick is a name, not an insult. Huh. Weird, but then, considering Danny knows ghosts named Klemper and Skulker, it could be worse.
"That was one time!" The voice sighs, suddenly subdued as if it's a well worn argument. "I don't evenâwhy would youâI know for a fact you have Babs monitor my shit. And I know for damn sure you have Tam in your pocket too. When would I even have the time??"
That does not sound healthy. Danny's face scrunches up, remembering the times Vlad left all those bugs in his childhood home. Then again, he lets Tucker track his GPS location at all times, and he knows that the rest of them use it on occasion too so maybe Danny should just mind his own business.
"Why would I even do that?" The voice is entirely out of depth now, "I am not ashamed of our family, what the fuck? I'm seriously getting whiplash. What's happening, really? Is it the wedding jitters? Anxiety about quitting the force? Did Jason die again?"
Danny perks up. Thatâwell. That sounds interesting actually. He wonders vaguely if, after the phone call, he could introduce Danny. Maybe Jazz will be happy if Danny joined a "Died Once Club."
Immediately, Danny shakes his head. Jazz would probably actually hate that. Or maybe she'd think of it as group therapy? Danny considers for a moment, before giving up on trying to predict how his sister would react. It's not like Danny would actually talk to the guy on the phone outside his door anyway.
There's a long pause as the voice waits for this so-called Dick to presumably ramble, so Danny takes the opportunity to quietly gather his things. His presentation can wait until tomorrow, orâDanny glances at his phone, next week actually. How is it already Friday? Shit.
He was supposed to try and see if any of his coworkers would have a drink with him today, to assuage Jazz's fears of him becoming a hermit. A glance around the long empty lab shows that Danny has utterly failed. He winces, realizing that's the third time he's done that in the past week.
Maybe tomorrow he'll force himself to go outside and visit his favorite coffee shop in his neighborhood for lunch. He'll take a walk, see if any elderly ladies need help crossing the mean streets of Gotham. Maybe he could volunteer?
He could take a ride around on the Blueberry, maybe go chat with some of the ghosts around Gotham and submit another anonymous note to the GCPD, or maybe send one to the BPD this time, mix it up a bit.
Jazz should be back from her conference by now, and even though she'll get mad he could portal over now and they could get dinner together, maybe?
Danny immediately tosses that thought away, he's still been knee deep in his presentation (he's never been good with powerpoints) so he hasn't really made any progress on "living his life" like Jazz has been hoping he'd do since their phone call.
It would only worry her more, at this point. Maybe he could try that Melon Bread recipe he saw on Rumblr, see if Neighbor John would appreciate the leftovers. But then againâis it really wise to gift a baker baked goods?
Too focused on being as quiet as he could as his mind wanders the possibilities for the weekend, Danny misses the end of the phone call and is therefore shocked into stillness when the door to his lab bangs open suddenly.
Danny, frozen with his bag clutched tight to his chest, stares wide-eyed as the mysterious phone caller sweeps into the room and plops heavily into the nearest chair. With a heaving sigh, the other man leans over, elbows on his knees as he presses his face into his hands defeatedly.
Danny watches in a cold kind of terror that can only come from stupid and embarrassing social situations, as the man tries to calm himself by taking deep breaths and muttering too softly to himself in words that even Danny can't understand with his advanced hearing.
"Uhm." Danny squeaks, when the man finally calms down, twitching violently when the man jolts at the sound of Danny's voice.
In quick succession, the other man bangs his knee on a table nearby as he swings himself up, hissing as he he almost topples over. He straightens back up to quickly slam a hand against the light switch by the door, knocking over several other chairs, three books, a singular beaker and an assortment of random tools along the way.
For such a short distance, it still manages to bring about a cacophony of noise. Danny would laugh if he had the capacity for it, he's sure.
Instead he blinks against the sudden harsh blare of the overhead lights, still clutching his bag, meeting the wide startled eyes of Timothy Drake-Wayne.
"UhmâŠ" Danny says again, this time drawing it out carefully and slowly. He tries to think of something, anything to say, but draws a blank. He always was a shitty artist.
"How long have you been there?" Mr. Drake, Danny isn't sure if he goes by Drake or Wayne and is feeling wrong footing for not knowing, finally asks into the silence.
Danny winces. "Long enough to feel the need to apologize. I really didn't mean to eavesdrop butâŠ"
Mr. Drake wipes a hand down his face, taking one sharp inhale, before letting it go slowly. "It'sâŠfine, Mr. Nightingale."
"Danny." Danny automatically corrects, wincing again when Mr. Drake eyes him over the hand covering his mouth. "Please, Mr. Drake, call me Danny."
"Danny, then." Mr. Drake sighs, looking like he's gained at least ten years on his shoulders. "Please, call me Tim. As cheesy and as rote as it sounds, Mr. Drake was my father."
"Right." Danny says, but doesn't know how else to continue the conversation, so once again he says, "UhmâŠ"
Come on, Nightingale, where's that sparkling wit? Danny thinks, hysterically.
"If you're done packing," Tim tiredly smiles, and Danny is dismayed to remember that Tim is actually one of his bosses, "far be it for me to keep you here. It would do wonders for my ego if you could do me the favor of keeping this matter to yourself."
"Of course!" Danny stutters, adjusting his bag so it hangs off one shoulder instead of holding it like some kind of shield. "And don't worryâI've definitely heard worse family conversations, swear on it."
Tim's smile softens in response, and Danny is even more dismayed to realize that the Gotham Gazette really wasn't lying when they said the Co-CEO of Wayne Enterprises could make bank as a model.
The entire Wayne Family could make bank as models, but only one of them is in front of Danny right now, so. Come to think of itâdidn't Tim do a whole photo spread for the Gotham Gazette recently?
He distinctly remembers abs. There were definitely abs involved.
Do not think about your boss' abs, Danny Fenton! Jazz's voice admonishes in his head.
"That's very kind of you to say Danny," Tim says and it does something to Danny to realize he apparently speaks very formally to his employees, considering how candid he was with his brother on the phone outside the lab, "and I won't hold your blatant lying against you."
Danny has half a mind to ask the other man if he'd consider holding something against him, preferably ab-related, before Jazz's voice scolds him again with a stern stop objectifying your boss, Danny Fenton!
The Jazz in his head never gets his not-so-new last name right, even though he's gotten it down even in his own head years ago.
"Absâ" Danny blurts before coughing. "That is, I'm absolutely not dumb enough to lie to one of my bosses. I'm a shit liar anyway."
Tim's eyebrows shoot up, his smile growing a little more has he huffs a laugh like he's surprised by it. Danny realizes belatedly that he probably shouldn't be swearing in front of one of his bosses either.
"UhâI mean. Anyway!" Danny can feel sweat pouring out from every single orifice in his body, which is not a thing that should be happening. He shuffles sideways until he can pass his boss safely, desperately.
Ah, shit, Danny is taller than Tim by like, a solid couple inches. This is not the time to be noticing that kind of thing, actually, and could not make Danny's life any worse.
Danny is devastatingly dismayed to realize that this angle makes the other man really very attractive, actually. Especially when the other man looks up at Danny through his eyelashes, inadvertently coquette as his really blue eyes crinkle in the corners from the smile he's sporting.
Danny's eyes are blue with little specks of green from the accident, but Tim's eyes are a whole different league. They look unreal, the kind of blue you can almost see through, the kind of blue that feel like you can reach into, like liquid crystal.
Tim is, truly unfortunately, the perfect kissing height. He didn't even know that was a thing until right this second and he's kind of losing his mind about it. He's seen this man half naked on magazines and did not feel a thing. How is it that meeting the guy in person and seeing him laugh that tiny laugh suddenly makes him real?
Like, wow, okay, how can a man this handsome be so severely cute? Suave and cute should not be a thing that goes together, ever, and is actively a hate crime. Against Danny, specifically.
It's kind of ridiculous, actually. Like, Danny's seen hot people before, okay? He was like stupidly attracted to Sam and acted perfectly fine like, 80% of the time and that was when he was a truly horrendous ball of hormones and lust. The point is, he has eyes, sure, but it's never been a problem with his mouth before.
Thinking of mouths is genuinely the stupidest thing to do right now, actually.
"Have a nice day, Tim." Danny rushes out, opening the door hurriedly and just barely managing not to use any extra strength. "Promise I'm better at keeping secrets than I am at lying, bye!"
There might be chuckles in response, maybe even an actual reply, but Danny is too busy shutting the door behind him and fleeing.
It's fine. Tim rarely ever comes to this corner of the research labs, today was definitely just a flukeâhe'll never have to see the guy again and therefore never have to deal with whatever the hell awkwardness that was.
Even if he's a damn good sight to see and probably worth the awkwardness.
"What?" Danny asks as innocently as possible, sniffling as the cold hits his face.
It's moments like these that remind Danny of the stark differences between his human form and his ghost form. "No, I definitely had at least eight hours of sleep."
"Why does that sound fake?" Sam's voice takes on a skeptical tone, which is fair, because it is fake. Not that Sam needs to know that. "Are you lying to me, Danny Nightingale?"
"I wouldn't dare." Danny lies, again. "I remember the last time I did, and what you did in retaliation."
The pointed silence that garners only hurts a little bit. Just a little.
Thankfully, a noise signaling another caller has joined prevents Sam from hissing any threats.
For now.
"Sup, how are my two main squeezes?" Tucker's cheerful voice rings in, loud enough that Danny has to move the phone away from his ear. "Everything tubular?"
"That is definitely not how Californians talk." Sam scoffs, despite the fact that she doesn't actually know with full certainty whether it is or is not.
Tuck clicks his tongue and begins to jab at Sam with exactly that fact. Danny lets their bickering wash over him as he continues on his stroll through Gotham, heading to his favorite coffee shop just a couple blocks away from his apartment.
They make this Irish coffee that warms Danny down to his bones, only available because the cafe serves as a bar in the night time.
It's cold, still in the beginnings of Spring, even though Winter's influence still lingers in the air. Gotham especially seems to cling to it, but cold as he might be in his human form Danny's always loved it. He'd rather the cold than mind melting heat.
When Danny shifts his attention from dodging a Gothamite to get to the door of his cafe, he sees Tim smiling at an old lady he holds the door open for her. When he looks behind him to check for more people, he makes eye contact with Danny. Both of them blink at each other, startled and smiling awkwardly.
The other man is no less handsome than he was yesterday, but Danny is surprised to find that it's not as embarrassing to see the man as he thought it would be. Danny's surprised by how fine he is actuallyâit must be the influence of Sam and Tucker's presence even if only through the phone.
"Enough." Sam sighs as Tim gestures for Danny to go ahead. "Can we get to the point?"
"The point being what," Danny goads, nodding his thanks to Tim and going in. He gestures for Tim to go ahead of him in line, which Tim shakes his head to only to capitulate when Danny insists silently. "That even in our thirties you guys still argue like a married couple?"
Tucker and Sam squawk and squabble at that, which makes Danny chuckle. It's his favorite bit, even when he and Sam were dating he would always playfully accuse Sam of cheating on him with Tucker, which always guaranteed both of them gagging in disgust.
In unison. Every. Single. Time.
"The point," Sam huffs, "is we need to figure out what we're going to be doing for your Death Day."
"What we always do, Sam." Danny drawls, focusing on Tim's back in front of him to make sure he's not too close but not lagging in the line either. "Overthrow the government and ban Christmas."
The shorter man is dressed down in a way that surprises Dannyâthough he supposes he shouldn't be. Tim is younger than Danny by at least a couple of years, despite his many accomplishments, and Danny loves his jeans so he shouldn't be surprised that Tim does too.
He looks very good in ripped jeans and a creamy white cable knit sweater. The slate gray peacoat makes the outfit more mature, though the bright red scarf wrapped around the other man's neck makes him lookâŠcute. Like Danny could sweep him up to keep him warm. Not that Danny could really do that, considering Danny runs cold most of the time. And because Tim is his boss, technically. Also, Danny and Tim have met only once.
Okay, there are a lot of reasons Danny can't do that. But a half-man half-ghost can dream, can't he?
After a moment of taking in Tim's outfit, Danny squints, smiling because Tim is clearly returning the favor from yesterday as he laughs quietly at Danny's joke. It makes Danny feel accomplished, making someone laugh has always put him in a good mood.
Nevermind that it was a handsome man he made laugh. That's unrelated.
"The end is nigh," Sam intones, playing along as Tucker cackles maniacally like a cartoon villain in the background. "Capitalism never stood a chance."
Danny chuckles as it becomes his turn to order.
"One Irish coffee, pleaseâ" Danny requests the barista softly, paying for his drink and tossing the change into the tip jar before addressing his friends again. "Why are we even planning this early? D-Day isn't until next month."
He searches for a spot to wait, only to find Tim subtly scooting over to make room in the surprisingly crowded waiting area. He shuffles in close, but not too close, very aware of all those terrible, terrible thoughts he had yesterday about Tim'sâŠeverything.
"Because if we don't, you knuckleheads would never think to make time for it."
"I resent that." Tucker argues, "My Baby keeps a tight ship around here."
"Are you still calling your stupid PDA your baby in your thirties?" Sam sneers.
"Now that I think about it, Jazz was thinking about signing us up for an adult camp." Danny hurriedly cuts in between that familiar argument. Unlike the others, it always gets tiring real fast. That and the Meat vs Vegan Debate. "You know, the one that Dash opened recently a couple hours from Amity?"
"Oh yeah," Tucker hums thoughtfully, thankfully distracted, "the one that rips off that horror movie, with the camp counselors, right?"
"Camp Eerie," Sam agrees, "with the extra E to follow the horror movie theme he's got going on. He bought up an acre by Lake Erie with the money he made playing college football."
"And with some investment from your allowance." Tuck chimes in, which garners Sam's protestations in a thankfully more harmless way than the other topic.
Sam doesn't get an allowance anymore and has in fact cut herself off from her parents long ago, but there's no denying that she did get a sizable allowance that she invested into stocks back in high school in order to establish financial independence.
Now, she's a fresh face at the Daily Planet and is slowly but surely trying to make her way into the political intrigue world by learning the ropes from the infamous Lois Lane. Now that he thinks on it, Wes is there too isn't he? He recalls Sam saying something about a Jimmy or Johnny or otherâŠ
He's distracted from their bickering and his wayward thoughts when Tim's voice startles him.
"Hello?" Tim hesitatingly asks, but when Danny turns he realizes it's not to him, it's to his phone. "Jason? Why are youâ"
Tim cuts off, before closing his eyes in clear frustration. "You're like the fifth person to call me about this. I am not hiding someone. What the fuck?"
Danny blinks, momentarily distracted. That's the second time he's heard Tim talk about hiding someone, which brings up the question: Has Tim hidden someone from his family before?
Also, hearing Tim swear and seeing his mouth shape the words somehow startles Danny even more. It shouldn't, considering the entirety of, well, yesterday's phone conversation he heard but still. It's startling, is all. He spoke so formally yesterday with Danny.
"Why do you even care? Why would I hide an entire relationship for that long? What benefit would I gain from this?" Tim's lovely face (all rosy from the cold and snuggled under his scarf) scrunches up in an irritated manner, though he remains composed enough to peaceably walk up to the counter to pick up his drink and smile at the barista. "All this hypothetical hiding has done is make you guys more nosy. Make it make sense."
"Irish coffee for Danny?" the barista calls next, which shakes Danny out of his stupor. He makes his way to the counter to grab his drink, only to realize the barista is not the only one calling his name.
"-anny? Danny!" Sam practically yells in his ear in tandem with Tucker, as Danny watches Tim leave the cafe hissing into his phone. "Helloooo?"
"Sorry, sorry." Danny rushes out, feeling guilty and waiting a bit so that he doesn't inadvertently follow the other man. "Got distracted. So, Camp Eerie for D-Day, yeah?"
They make solid plans, Danny making mental notes to text Jazz about it, or at least bring it up the next time he sees her.
"What's got you so distracted anyway?" Tucker asks, once plans have been set and lives have been updated.
"Yeah, Dannyâ" Sam cuts in before Danny can even pretend to be confused. "I can feel the focus slipping all the way over here in Metropolis."
"I bumped into Tim today." Danny finally decides to say, after checking to see the man in question is nowhere around. "Tim Drake-Wayne I mean. Again."
"You met Timothy Drake-Wayne multiple times and you didn't tell me???" Tucker screeches, causing Danny to wince and pull the phone away from his ear for a second.
"I've, uh, kind of accidentally eavesdropped on like, two of his phone conversations now. Once yesterday and now today."
"So?" Sam questions, "Is it something juicy? If it's private I have to remind you I'm a reporter now."
"As if you would stoop so low as to resort to gossip articles about the rich and famous." Tucker scoffs, but quiets down when Sam hisses at him like a cat. She does that, unironically. Has been doing it since she was little apparently. It still brings Danny great joy to this day.
"Off the record thenâ" Danny laughs, trying to think of a way to parse out what he's thinking. "From what I gather, his family thinks he's hiding a relationship from themâand is very bothered by it."
"And that bothers you because�" Sam asks, trailing off in confusion. "That sounds like a typical family thing?"
"He's apparently gotten five calls about it, from different people at least." Danny takes a sip of his drink, relishing the warmth, "And apparently it isn't the first time he's done it."
"This still sounds very normal." Tucker asks suspiciously. "Val hid her relationship with me and you from her dad because of how overprotective he is of her."
"WellâŠI justâŠ" Danny trails off, unsure. "He just sounds very adamant that there's no-one, but none of his family believe him andâŠ"
"What, and you wanna volunteer your fake boyfriend services?" Sam scoffs.
The silence is deafening, and Danny feels like he might die. Again. For the third time.
"Oh my god." Tucker exhales, disbelieving. "Oh my god you've watched way too many Hallmark movies. Christmas was over four months ago buddy!"
"That, or the Star Trek fanfic got to him." Sam is rolling her eyes at him on the other side of this receiver, he can definitely tell. "Is your favorite tag #FakeRelationship by any chance?"
"You have no leg to stand on!" Danny argues, turning red. This did not go as he thought it would. "Miss fake out make outs."
"Have you considered that he doesn't want to prove his family right?" Sam shoots back, ignoring the nickname altogether. "That's if he accepts your offer by the way."
"Plus," Tucker adds, dragging out the vowels as if he's thinking aloud, "how do you know he really isn't hiding someone?"
"I could offer to be his fake boyfriend of however long they think he's been hiding me," Danny counter offers, ignoring Tucker completely. "And then we can stage a really big break up?"
"That's a lot of HR headache to offer to one of your bosses." Sam reminds him, gritting her teeth before mocking him. "Being a walking OSHA violation wasn't enough?"
"It's only a violation if he asks me." Danny loftily reminds her. After a moment, he adds in belatedly, "And he's not technically in charge of my department."
"Yeah, because he's technically he's in charge of your entire company, Danny." Sam stresses. "Which includes your department."
"...That's a minor technicality." Danny retorts after a moment, biting his lip.
"There's still the technicality that there might actually be someone already..." Tucker singsongs insistently, which hurts. Danny thought Tucker would have agreed if only for the entertainment value. He's the one that got Danny into those stupid Hallmark movies anywayâit's the only aspect of the Christmas season he even remotely likes, just by how stupidly corny they are.
Everything else about the holiday can burn, in his humble opinion. Though, ever since Jazz and him separated from their parents they've been making their own traditions about it instead, so it isn't as bad now.
"Well, maybe me being a substitute will help get the heat off this mysterious hidden person." Danny weakly sniffs back as he makes his way up the stairs to his apartment. He had looped around the neighborhood during their call, just so he wouldn't be pacing back and forth in his apartment. It was barely an hour long outing, and he's already dead tired.
"You can't be serious, Danny." Sam sounds helpless, and confused. Which is honestly fair. He doesn't know where this came from either. "That's an insane idea, even from you."
"Jazz thinks I'm not having enough fun." Danny tries to argue, playfully of course. "This is me, having fun. I'd be a really good fake boyfriend!"
"On what basis?" Tucker genuinely asks. "You were a great real boyfriend, far as I could tell as your totally unbiased best friendâ"
"Can confirm." Sam grumpily and clearly begrudgingly cuts in, though Tucker simply ignores her and continues.
"But a fake boyfriend?" Tucker sounds imploring now, "be so for real right now Dannyâyou'd get too invested. Not that that's a bad thing! It's good that you're so caring! That's what we love about you."
"Regardless," Sam adds in, not letting Danny have any time to even process whether or not Tucker is insulting him or complimenting him. "You barely know the guy. Unless there are more incidents that you haven't been tell us about?"
"I didn't think you guys would take this so seriously." Danny grumbles, before huffing, "It was just the two times."
"It better, not telling me right away is already an affront to our best friendship just FYI." Tucker grumbles.
"We take it seriously because we have to be careful about you manifesting this kind of energy in your life," Sam emphasizes her words, as if they're supposed to mean anything to Danny, "since, as you seem to be ignoring, he's your boss. Things could get messy real fast you know."
"It was just an idea." Danny grumbles, cowed and hurt by it. "It works in the moviesâit's Tucker's fault that I'm predisposed to crazy ideas like this by the way."
"Just be content admiring your boss from afar and move on," Tucker consoles, laughing a little to soften the blow as he tack on in a joking tone, "this is not a unique experienceâSam would totally jump Lois Lane's pants if she had the chance!"
Sam sputters in a mix of flustered rage, and Danny lets out a sigh as sinks into his beloved armchair. He lets their bickering wash over him, a comforting sound that warms him just as much as, if not more than, the drink in his hand.
He sips, chiming in with a comment or two, a little disappointed but not surprised. Seeing his boss twice in as many days was a funny little coincidence, like some kind of novel or movie, so Danny couldn't really help himself with his runaway thoughts. It was a silly idea, but again he didn't really think his friends would take it so seriously.
He was just sort of kind of joking, why are they acting like he would actually do it? He's said crazier things in their youth. Tucker has said even more insane things, and don't even get him started on Sam's "righteous justice."
It all makes him feel kind of foolish. But, he guesses some things have to be rooted in reality now that they're adults. Maybe this is what Jazz meant when she said he was changing. He just didn't think it extended to his best friends too.
They used to talk all sorts of hypotheticals back in the dayâand hell, their lives with the Realms involved is nothing less than weird.
Oh well. He went on his mini adventure, and that's all that he set out to do today so he'll take the win.
It really was fun to think about though, even if it got taken way too seriously. Danny isn't that unhinged, thanks very much.
After all, Danny never actually intended to offer Tim to be his fake boyfriend.
In lieu of AO3 getting shut down im updating a little early!
No intro snippet this time, for humor reasons. gonna have to click the "keep reading" to see it :)
Edit: forgot some people are whiney /j @agentnavi @chromatographic
===
"I could be your fake boyfriend." Danny blurts out, feeling like he's having an out of body experience.
His mind is kind of spinning right now. He's not sure how he got here. Perhaps this is all an elaborate dream Nocturne has trapped him in, or wires got crossed with Ghost Writer. Danny doesn't even want to entertain the thought that Desiree might be involved. He hasn't said the words I and wish consecutively since he was a teenager and growing facial hair in a very unfortunately patchy pattern.
He was only supposed to be going through the team notes on the final (final_final_thistimeforREALfinal.pptx) presentation, not sitting across from Timothy Drake-Wayne, Co-CEO of Wayne Industries and kind of sort of his boss and doing the exact thing he wasn't supposed to be doing.
"Wait, really?" Tim perks up from where he was slumped on the table. "I was kind of joking but you'd really be doing me a huge favor. It doesn't make you feel uncomfortable?"
Maybe it's the setting that's doing it. Tim looked so sad and vulnerable and defeated, Danny couldn't stand it. He barely knows the guy, but he knows it's been a hellish couple of weeks for the man.
Before, Danny had thought he would never see Tim down at the labs ever again. After the coffee shop sighting, he'd thought it was just a couple of freaky coincidences. But now that they've broken the seal apparently, it seems like Tim is actually a more frequent visitor of the basement labs than he thought and Danny has justâŠnever noticed him.
He's seen Tim march back and forth between labs at least three times now, a trail of secretaries and scientists and engineers and even a janitor following the man around as he hops between projects like a particularly well postured bunny. It's never a large grouping, Tim seeming to always focus on only two or three people at a time, but it's still strange for Danny to not have seen, or rather noticed before.
He had subtly probed his coworkers, and apparently this isn't a new thing at all. Apparently Tim does this every Spring Season, when the projects are back in full swing after the holidays. And Danny has just. Never noticed.
And those three times alone tell Danny Tim's been harangued by not only his family, but an abundance of work projects that are coincidentally having issues left and right.
It made Danny pity the man, especially when he witnessed young Damian Wayne practically accost Tim about his so-called paramour in front of not one, but four upper managers in the Lobby of WE quite literally two days ago.
(Not that Danny's weeks haven't been a walk in the park either.
Working on a presentation on a project involving more than 14 members across two different teams isâŠ.not very easy to say the least.
Thankfully Danny's only in charge of providing information and correcting data, even though people keep changing his corrections for some gods damned reason.
Still, it shouldn't take weeks to do one single powerpoint presentation. Don't even ask him who will be in charge of actually presenting the damn thing, nobody will actually answer or volunteer.)
And now, through a series of circumstances Danny still isn't sure of, they've ended up bumping into each other just a block away from Neighbor John's bakery. Quite literally too, as Danny somehow failed to perceive the other man sulkily recovering from, apparently, a terribly exhausting phone call with his father.
His father, Bruce Wayne, the Big Guy Upstairs. Danny tries very hard not to think about it.
(He likes Bruce Wayne, really he does. He's a better billionaire than Vlad ever was or even will be and seems like a genuinely funny and charming guy.
The problem is that even though he feels genuine when he smiles and takes care of his employees, Danny just can't shake this weird feeling that the guy is hiding something.
After finding out that Lex Luthor is just as much of a shit-head as Vlad is, Danny has had a very low tolerance for billionaires.
The problem is that against all odds, Danny likes Bruce Wayne despite knowing the guy is hiding something. Because the guy has done some good stuff for Gothamâeven the world. Enough that Danny feels a tiny smidgen of hero-worship, along with his really nice direct boss Lucius Fox.
Bruce Wayne and Lucius are the kind of people Danny wished his parents wereâthe kind of people Danny's parents could be if they weren't so stuck on ghost hunting. if they weren't dead set on their preconceived notion that ghosts are Bad, and Unfeeling, and Terrible.
All this to say: Danny's conflicted and he doesn't like that so he tries not to think about it.
He takes his hero-worship of Bruce Wayne and Lucius with a large grain of salt, so he doesn't feel too disappointed if they prove him wrong one day.)
The point is, when he bumped into Tim and caused the man to drop his coffee (thankfully onto the ground) Danny had offered one of his newly acquired pastries in consolation. Tim, either due to being so broken from the phone call, the coffee, or just Too Tired to keep up pretenses any longer, accepted it silently without even a token protest.
Soon enough, they had found themselves an outdoor table at a park nearby, an agonizingly quiet five minutes away, munching on pastries together.
Danny took the time to tell Tim about inane thingsâthe stars, some weird shit about astrology he learned recently from Sam, about the perils of powerpoint presentations and group projects threatening to ruin his weekend and beyond, how he'll see Jazz over the weekend and how it's been a while, anything he could really think of in the moment.
He spoke lowly, yapping mindlessly as they chewed their pastries until there were only crumbs leftâuntil Danny gathered their trash and tossed them.
And in the time it takes Danny to try and regather his thoughts and figure out more topics appropriate to babble about to your sort of boss, the floodgates start to creak open.
Tim told him all about itâhow his family is convinced he's hiding someone, how Tim had felt angry at first, before the resignation flowed over him.
How, in his family's defense, Tim has never been good at opening up. His other siblings are adopted, just like he was, but Tim wasn'tâTim and Bruce's relationship was different.
How Tim is at a loss because now he knowsâhis family isn't mad at him for hiding this non-existing person, his family are worried.
Worried that Tim feels left out, that Tim doesn't feel comfortable enough to share his life with them, that Tim doesn't care.
Which, clearly, isn't the truth at all.
And then the reason Danny's in this terrible predicament had been breathed out into the world.
"I almost wish I did have a person to hide, it feels like I'd disappoint my family if I didn't." Tim, head in his heads, had grumbled desperately. There was a manic tinge to his words. "Maybe I could hire an actor, or something."
That's when Danny's mouth worked faster than his brain did. And that's where they're at nowâDanny offering to be his boss's fake boyfriend.
"Wait," Tim continues as Danny's heart races unevenly. It feels like it's about to skid out on black ice, and he's on edge because of it. "This is technically an HR violation isn't it?"
"I offered." Danny's tongue unsticks itself, because of course it does. "And you're not technically my boss."
Tim thinks on that for a moment, and Danny shouldn't be finding the man tilting his head like a puppy so cute. But he does, fuck, he does. "IâŠsuppose you're right. It does lend credibility."
"Credibility?" Danny echoes, still kind of out of his body.
"On why I would hide it." Tim shrugs, before making a face. "Now that I'm calmer I just realized how terribly rude I've been. I'mâŠso sorry for dumping all of that on you."
"Don't be." Danny shrugs back, thinking hysterically about what he's going to tell his friends. Or, Ancients forbid, what he's going to tell Jazz. "Sometimes it's easier to open up to a stranger."
Tim wipes a hand down his face, sighing. "Still, I shouldn'tâ"
"I've always wanted to be part of a Hallmark movie." Danny interrupts, as if that makes any sense whatsoever.
Tim laughs, like it was punched out of him, and Danny should not be feeling immense pride about being the cause of it.
After a moment of gathering himself, Tim smiles a little helplessly words a little more formal again, "It's really nice of you to offer, but I'm not sure if we shouldâ"
"I knew it!" A shrill voice startles both of them, Tim's eyes going wide-eyed in panic. Danny turns to see a woman stomping her way towards them almost angrily, if it weren't for the victorious smile she's sporting.
"Fuck." Tim breathes out, but Danny can't focus on that. The woman looks like a shark in the water, and Danny and Tim are the chum buckets.
When the woman finally arrives at their table, she slams her hands down hard enough to shake the table, causing both men to jolt and scooch away in haste. The woman, a blonde woman with dagger sharp eyes that reflect aquamarine in the light, points at Danny as she continues to yell at Tim.
"I knew you were hiding someone, I knew it!" The woman's finger is dangerously close to Danny's eye, so he delicately pushes it away with his own finger. She doesn't even flinch, or even care. "You thought you could hide it from us, from me, but I'm here to tell you you failed."
"Stephâ" Tim sighs, shooting an apologetic look at Danny before frowning up at the newcomer. "At the risk of sounding cliche it's seriously not what it looks like. Danny isâ"
But Steph isn't having it, she beams and faces Danny instead, ignoring Tim altogether. "Hi, Stephanie Brown. It's nice to finally meet you Danny!"
Danny, with not much else to do, smiles and shakes the proffered hand with a firm but not too firm grip. "A pleasure."
Tim grabs Steph's wrist, yanking it away from Danny and forcing her to look at him. "Steph, I am not joking, Danny isâ"
"Save it, Tim-ochio." Steph twists to break free from his hold, opening her hand wide and pressing Tim's face away from her whilst also preventing him from speaking any further. "Listen, Danny. Here's my number. I expect a text, and you can expect the rest of the family to find out soon enough. I'm sorry, I really amâI went through it when I went out with this guy too."
Danny takes the card. "Ah, so you are that Stephanie Brown..."
He remembers when the tabloids exploded at the reveal of their relationship when they were teens, remembers the candids and the occasional awful things they had said about the then teenage girl, even all the way in Amity Park. He remembers, most of all, how their break up articles were very subdued, almost like Gotham was being delicate about it for once.
Sam had said that the Waynes had done something, but she still hadn't really explained what and Danny was too young to really care about it much beyond thinking at least they will stop picking on her now.
Not that it stopped the tabloids when Steph began dating Cassandra Cain instead, but he thinks there are less scathing comments about them now, in fear of hate crime accusations.
"Yes. I am. But you should already know that I'm dating this guy's sister now, so I'm not a threatâeven if I wasn't, been there, done that." Steph rolls her eyes, handily still tussling with Tim like they're toddlers and not in their, what, late twenties? "Listen, this is important. I expect that text because I am your ally, okay? This family? Fucking nutso. I love them, I do, but there's a reason he hid you from us and I don't blame him."
Danny chuckles at that. "I can imagine. And yet here you areâŠ"
"I don't blame him," Steph grits, bopping Tim on the head and toppling his chair so that the man falls on the ground with a groan, "but I am still mad at him for it because ex status not-withstanding, I am still his best friend last I checked. But that's not your fault soâtext me, okay? I'll give you all the deets that I'm sure this fool has kept from you."
"I'll text you." Danny agrees amiably, as he gets up to help Tim to his feet. Steph beams as Tim sputters.
"Danny, you don'tâ" Tim starts, but Steph bowls him over to give Danny a hug. She leaves just as quickly as she arrived, waving boisterously.
"Welcome to the family, Danny!" Steph yells as she runs away from Tim throwingâŠsomething. A shoe? Danny looks down. Yep. One of Tim's very expensive shoes is missing. Looking back up Steph sticks her tongue out at Tim, before yelling over her shoulder. "And good luck!"
The silence that follows in the wake of Hurricane Stephanie is loud, but peaceful. Danny is weirdly calm now, in the chaos. He's always been good at going with the flow, and he's used to dealing with chaos, so this feels like he's now on solid ground.
It's almost comforting, nostalgic, even. Harking back to the days Sam and him faked it until they made it.
(And then, of course, realized that it would have never worked out long term. That's not the entire story, but it is what it is. It took them years to figure it out, and though it's different now they still love each other and that's all that matters.)
He helps Tim to his seat, before going over to collect the man's shoe. When he comes back, Tim has his head in his hands again, looking like he's aged a million years and is desperately wondering why he hasn't crumbled into dust yet.
"I am," Tim mutters through his fingers, "so very sorry."
Danny huffs a laugh through his nose, smiling as he crouches down to help Tim put his shoe back on. "My offer still stands, if that helps?"
Tim sighs dramatically, hands dropping and looking very downtrodden again. "It does, but only a little bit."
"Ouch." Danny jokes, taking his seat again. "I'll try not take that personally."
"It's nothing against you!" Tim hurriedly rushes out, "I just feel so guilty!"
"Why?" Danny tilts his head, genuinely confused. If anything, this entire situation is being unfair to Tim. It was his family that misunderstood and refused to listen, and even though Tim was just grumbling out of frustration Danny was the one who decided to offer semi-seriously.
"Well, now you're stuck with me. Your boss." Tim reminds Danny, but when he opens his mouth to refute Tim raises a hand to stop him. "I know I'm not technically your boss but there are still lines."
"But it lends credibility." Danny smugly cuts in, throwing Tim's own words back at him almost pettily. Tim eyes Danny, squinting as if he isn't sure what the hell Danny is doing. Which is fair. Danny doesn't really know what he's doing.
"It lends credibility." Tim sighs, agreeing and gracefully letting Danny have the win. He rubs his temple as if staving off a headache. "If we're actually going to do this, we'll have to establish ground rules. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, and I know I can getâŠparticular, so it'd be best to let you know up front so I don't get snippy about it."
"I am all for rules." Danny gives Tim two thumbs up, lamely. "Consent is sexy."
Tim's eyebrow twitches, making Danny afraid he's crossed a line for a moment before he realizes Tim is trying not to laugh. He's biting his lips and looking away from Danny, but he can see the way the corner of Tim's mouth is struggling not to go up.
Danny feels like he could take down his entire ghost menagerie in 3 minutes flat, he's so pumped with serotonin.
"Right. So." Tim coughs, trying to hide his smile. "Maybe a contract, then?"
"The movies never really talk about the actual logistics of being in a fake relationship." Danny thinks aloud, realizing how reckless those movies actually are. But then again, that's part of the fun isn't it? "But I guess from your position it would have to be a necessity."
Tim looks a little apologetic again, a now familiar look that Danny is starting to hate, and doesn't disagree. He starts to gather his things, prompting Danny to do the same as he pulls out his phone. "I'll call us a driver, and we can draft up the contract as I drop you off home."
"Just one thingâ" Danny gently places a hand on Tim's arm, stopping him from moving away or pressing call. "My uh, friends will probably know."
"Know?" Tim's brows scrunch together, and Danny can't really handle how cute his boss is and how embarrassing this is gonna be for him. "Know what?"
"That I offered to be in a fake relationship with you. I was uhm. Kind of joking about Hallmark movies a couple weeks ago?" Danny mumbles, smiling sheepishly. "S'kinda why I had the idea in the first place. Fresh in the mind and all that."
In the end, they decide to write the contract on spare piece of paper found in Tim's briefcase in Danny's shitty little living room.
Tim had veto'd using Danny's laptop and his idea to email Tim a copy, on account of a close family friend apparently being nosy enough to look through his stuff and find it. On that vein, Danny had pointed out that maybe calling a driver hired by his family might also beâŠtelling, so he offered his house as a meeting place.
So they walk together, not quite talking the logistics of it yet for fear of being eavesdropped on (seriously, this brings up a lot of memories with Vlad, and subsequently the years where Jazz and Tucker had religiously kept track of Danny's whereabouts to make sure the creepy old billionaire wouldn't try anything) so they justâŠtalk.
And it's alarmingly easy to talk to Tim.
"So let me get this straight," Danny puts his hands up before him, putting a finger down as he lists names, "Dick is getting married to Cory, Jason is being "chicken shit" withâŠRoy, Barbara is with Kara, Cass and Steph are a thing."
Tim hums, nodding as he keeps his hands in his pockets, smiling at Danny's consternation.
Danny's head is spinning. He passively knows the Waynes, obviously, but never really concerned himself with their significant others. Even the Gotham Gazette only kept up the more public of the Wayne children. Of course, now that they have to establish they're a thing he should at least know the basics about those less public siblings. "Duke is dating Izzy, and Damian is in crush with Jon and vice versa but neither teen knows."
"And Bruce is dating," Tim does a little so-so motion with his hand, making a face that shows how much he is displeased by his father, "but we're still not sure with whoâthere are too many candidates."
"Have you considered that maybe he's not dating any of them?" Danny posits, grinning cheekily at Tim's apparent distress. "That maybe you guys are just sensitive to your old man's friends?"
"Trust me," Tim drawls, unamused and fraught at the same time, "I know what my dad is like when he's actually flirting."
Danny laughs at the disgust Tim's face adopts after that line. It's both hilarious and adorable at the same time. "What if he's dating all of them in some kind of weird polycule type situation? I wouldn't put it past Silver Fox Bruce Wayne to handle all that."
"Never say those words to me ever again." Tim points at Danny threateningly, though a flash of horror and fear goes across his face. "It's terrifying to say that I can't even rule that out. And disgusting."
Danny laughs even harder at that, wiping the tears that spring up from it as he tries to breathe. "Has anyone told you your family is messy?"
"Many times." Tim stresses, making a chopping motion with both hands like some kind of conspiracy theorist. "And the worst part is, this is only the current dating rosterâthere was a point in time when Dick was single but his best friend, coworker, and childhood friend all wanted to date him and he just. Didn't know."
"Dick Grayson," Danny says incredulously, "the Dick Grayson, who has flirted up and down the East and West Coast, and may even be internationally renowned for flirting, didn't know?"
"He thought they were just being nice to him because he was lonely!" Tim gestures, making a face like can you believe this guy???
"Jesus Christ." Danny mutters under his breath, sliding a hand down his face before a thought suddenly occurs to him. "Which one is he getting married to? It's one of the three, right?"
"The co-worker." Tim nods, flapping a hand carelessly. "But she's technically also one of his best friends, and is also a childhood friend. It's complicated."
Danny thinks about the A-listers, who have made amends with Danny long ago. He thinks about Wes, who still sends him a paper copy of Amity Park's newsletter, because he knows Danny loves the little column his old friend does breaking down government conspiracies in his down time from the Daily Planet.
He thinks about Lancer, who has done so much for Danny that it would be rude not to at least consider him a friend, or maybe even a weird uncle. He thinks about Sam and Val, of whom he still considers one of his best friends and a childhood friend, respectively, despite being his exes.
Complicated sounds just about right.
"Her name's Cory, right?" Danny asks, as they finally arrive at his apartment. "Like Boy Meets World?"
"No, it's with a K. And an I." Tim nods, watching Danny unlock the door and stepping in after him. "K-O-R-I."
Danny hums in acknowledgement, taking off his shoes and hanging his stuff by the door. He holds out his hands to take Tim's coat as well, though the other man refuses to give up his scarf. Danny turns up the heat in his apartment in response, leading his guest to the living room before making his way to the kitchen to make warm up some water.
Once they've settled in with cups of coffee, they get straight down to business.
The idea is simple: keep to as many truths as possible, and as little lies as can humanly be done.
The more lies there are, the higher the chance of something going astronomically wrong. Danny knows this from experience, and he firmly believes that Tim feels the same way with all the articles that's been released about his family.
"I mean," Tim straightens the briefcase that he's been using as a makeshift desk on his lap, "I feel like that covers all the bases right?"
"Uhm, let's seeâŠ" Danny shakes his head to get it back on track and recalling their story. "We've mostly been in a situationship for like, a year and you've been cagey and I wasn't looking for anything serious anyway so it worked for us."
"Which I'm very sorry about, and will probably be the reason we break up." Tim adds in, taking a sip of the crappy instant coffee Danny had in his cupboard.
"One of them anyway," Danny waves away, "the other being my terrible fear of commitmentâhence, the keeping it casual thing."
"So we've been doing this sort of romantic will they won't they, when Steph decides to come in all dramatic," Tim rolls his eyes, huffing, "which then, of course, pushes us firmly into the guess we're doing it now stage."
"Well, it's more like we've been doing it and nothing else until now, right?" Danny blithely jokes into his coffee, before freezing when his own words registers into his brain.
A quick glance at his Not-Boss has Tim determinedly staring straight into his coffee with red crawling up his neck. Danny mumbles an apology, wincing at himself.
This cover story has the added benefit of guilt tripping his family enough that they won't pester Danny too much, considering it's their meddling that making Danny suddenly jump into the deep end of a long term, serious relationship and therefore is making Danny feel "very very unnerved". Especially when he was supposedly under the impression that Tim was gun-shy about another relationship after his break up with Bernard Dowd, Tim's most recent ex.
It puts Danny in a certain kind of light, but he doesn't mind.
Tim doesn't know that Danny has played this kind of chicken before, when he was 14 and played "we're just friends" with Sam for three years. Senior year was a bit of a shit show, with Val dominating his Junior year, but they all worked it out in the end.
Even if Sam and Danny didn't make it past the halfway mark through college, he doesn't regret it. She's still one of his best friends in the entire world and beyond, and that's all that matters. He and Val still spar on occasion too, on good terms and everything.
The point is, even if Tim is doubtful of Danny being the kind of guy who's okay with a long situationship, Danny's been there. So he is, actually, that kind of guy.
The kind of guy who is sort of shy about commitment even though he's very open about his feelings.
You wouldn't think it because of the way affection flowers like waterfalls between them, but that's exactly what led to Danny moving to Gothamâto Jazz going to Chicago, to the siblings choosing to go by Nightingale and deciding that obsession in humans can be dangerous.
And Danny and Jazz, more than anyone, know that moderation is needed.
Which means, at the end of the day, Danny is in factâŠafraid of commitment.
He's just not sure how to convey all of that without actually admitting to anything, and now he's gone a put his foot in his mouth and tangentially hit on his boss. Hit on might be the wrong phraseâimplied past relations? Joked about being in a non-existent fake sexual situationship? His brain might be melting.
Thankfully, after a moment Tim clears his throat, keeping his eyes closed as if trying to ignore his own embarrassment. "No, no. You're right. My family knows I tend to cope with stress using physical activities. Normally that would be skateboarding or, well, my family's tendency towards extreme sports butâŠthis would work just as well."
Danny feels a kind of hunger flash over him, mouth suddenly feeling very dry. He licks his lips in an attempt to wet them, before hastily sipping his coffee again to cover that up. The still hot liquid jolts his system enough to get his brain back on track.
"Right. So." This time, Danny coughs to clear his throat. "There's no un-awkward way of asking this of you, but what's your stance on PDA?"
Tim grimaces, scrunching his still closed eyes for a moment. He blows out a breath and it's like suddenly Tim's entire countenance relaxes into a practiced pose: legs crossing after he places his mug of subpar coffee onto the table, adjusting himself so that his briefcase is set to the side and the scrap papers he'd been drafting their contract on are held carelessly in his hand.
If Danny didn't see it happening real time he would have thought Tim was unaffected but since he did, it reeks of putting on a mask for the sake of comfort.
"I am, historically, not very touchy feely," Tim sighs, papers drooping in sync as he reluctantly confesses to Danny his preferences. "But also historically, all of my significant others tend to be. IâŠlike being touched."
Somewhere in the back of Danny's mind, victory music and an imaginary crowd of other Dannies are cheering. Blaring in the forefront of Danny's mind all he can think is how fucked he is, and not even in the fun way.
"That's great!" Danny tries not to sound eager, and feels like he's failing terribly. He stutters a bit in an attempt to calm himself down as he rambles. "I mean uh, I'm known to be touchy feely even platonically soâŠno problems here, perfect, even. Coincidentally."
Danny winces. Way to sound totally normal, Nightingale.
Tim scrutinizes Danny for a moment, eying the way he fidgets. Danny feels a cold sweat roll down his spine as the other man's eyes squint a little.
Danny breaks.
"IâŠrun cold." Danny smiles sheepishly, confessing at least one truth in exchange for Tim's. "So I really like body heat. Others', I mean. Sorry if I sound so weirdly excitedâI haven't seen any of my loved ones for a while on account of living so far away and being so busy. I don't have a lot of friends here that I can be, uhm, tactile with."
A moment later, Danny realizes something terrible and hastily tries once more to reassure the other man. "Not thatâI will of course try to be very respectful of your boundaries! Likeâwe can just, hold hands?"
"Holding hands. Right." The line of Tim's shoulders relax, ever so slightly, and Danny feels like he's passed some kind of test by the skin of his teeth. It does seem like it all weirdly falls into place, which makes everything feel so suspicious.
With Tim's celebrity status, Danny wouldn't be surprised if the other man thought this was all planned by Danny in some sort of elaborate stalker move. He's sure weirder shit has happened to the Waynes, which is both sad and interesting.
Sad because nobody should have to deal with that kind of paranoia their entire lives, and interesting becauseâŠwell. Danny's life, after all, isn't all rainbows and daisies either. It's far from boring, evenânobody can argue that Danny's life out of context isn't batshit crazy.
He doubts Tim's got a secret vigilante life or a weird obsessive Bad Guy that wants to take him under his wing. He probably has never had to deal with beating up his own evil future self, or siblings trying to kill him or hellâparents that want to kill his alter ego.
Yeah, Danny's definitely still got the trophy on "Strangest Life Ever" even despite the shenanigans he's heard rich people can get up to from Sam, for sure.
Tim snaps the drooping piece of paper into stiffness, yanking Danny's wayward thoughts back into line as the other man slides his briefcase back onto his lap to write additions into the contract.
"So. PDA will be subject to circumstance but, I give you permission to touch me." Tim says gamely, though a little bit of that telling red starts crawling up his neck again, past the collar of his shirt in what is probably embarrassment. "I generally keep to hand holding on my part, but I won't mind an arm around my shoulder orâŠwell, a codeword should be handy in any case."
"Like a safeword?" Danny tilts his head, watching as Tim's handwriting stutters for a moment.
Tim coughs, and continues writing. "Yes. I'm open to suggestions."
"Pineapple?" Danny hums, weirdly mesmerized by how messy the CEO's handwriting actually is. "Myrrh?"
"Myrrh?" Tim's pretty blue eyes flicker up to Danny in confusion.
"Like, Mur-der?" Danny grins. Tim stares at Danny for a moment, unblinking, before sighing.
"Update," Tim drawls, taking out his phone to check what looks like an over-packed calendar. "I am not as open to suggestions as I thought I was."
"Boo, hiss." Danny laughs. "Where's your sense of whimsy, Mr. Drake? Your wonder and borderline fanaticism of the hit 2006 TV show Psyche?"
"Are you Shawn in this situation," Tim raises an eyebrow, quickly tapping on his phone with one hand and writing down dates and times in the other, "Or Gus?"
"I'm obviously Shawn," Danny is almost offended he even has to ask, actually. "Which makes you Sh'Dynasty."
"How do you spell that again? No wait," Tim puts away his phone with a small little smile that makes Danny's insides go all tingly, "I remember, S-H, comma to the top, Dynasty?"
"That's a God's comma, Tim." Danny concurs, flicking a two fingered salute. "Put some respect on it."
There's a beat.
And then Tim smiles like he can't help it and laughs.
It's a very nice laugh. It's so nice, it makes Tim look so much younger, more his age. It makes Tim look real and human and Danny has been clinging to half his humanity since he was fourteen.
Seeing someone light up, look so alive? Looking boyish and sweet in a three piece suit more expensive than his parents entire house and lab, crystalline blue eyes sparkling like diamond rings, it makes this whole charade feel tooâŠ
Too fake, too far, tooâwistful. Because Danny? Danny might be more fucked than he thought he was.
When the laughter dies down, Danny quietly freaking out with the kind of acting that should be on Broadway, Tim gets back into business.
The CEO slides the paper towards Danny, spinning it on the coffee table so that it faces him, and leans back to sip at his coffee again.
Danny, with thoughts racing around trying to grab attention, reads through it with an iron grip on his focus.
The contract itself is very simple in terms, and lays out all the basics in Tim's surprisingly messy handwriting.
The first chunk is a basic outline of their cover story, with a small section listing a couple of incidents and dates where Danny and Tim could have met and started their so-called relationship. Each part has a little tick box for Danny to check and, presumably, choose which is best.
In the second chunk, boundaries are bullet pointed with room to add more and a small rectangular box has been outlined to highlight a future safeword or phrase that has yet to be filled in. Closer inspection shows Tim has listed a few body parts that are definite No's in public, and what looks like a space for Danny to fill in himself.
The third chunk is really just a paragraph outlining that their relationship is subject to change at any given day depending on the circumstances. Anything can be discussed freely and without judgement, and can be subject to longer conversations to be had in the future in the guise of "whispered nothings" and can be had during, as the contract states, meetings heretofore referred to as "dates."
And finally, at the bottom of the pages is a list of calendar days that Danny can choose from for the next two months for said dates. It'sâŠa lot of days. Tim's even drawn a rudimentary calendar for months, though it's a little squished. It looks like he even marked the time of day those free days are availableâM, A, and E standing for Morning, Afternoon and Evening according to the little key Tim's drawn at the bottom.
As he reads, Danny fills each part out, ticking and marking and listing his own no-no's in the right places. He leaves the safeword box blank, and pulls out his own phone to compare and add the dates into his own schedule and calendar.
The entire time, Danny's thoughts spin like a tornado around him as he sits in the eye and goes through the contract. Part way through, Tim slides over a typed paper that seems to be a simple NDA.
Danny didn't even know NDAs could be so simple. He doesn't even really want to think about why Tim goes around with a prepared one in the first place.
When all is said and done, his calendar is full, and the contract is 99% filled out.
They can figure out the safeword later, but at the very bottomâŠ
Danny stares at the unevenly drawn dotted line where he's supposed to sign his name and for the first time since he blurted out his offer, hesitates.
Because what the hell is he thinking?
But he knows the answer to that already: he isn't. He's not thinking at all.
But he's thinking now. The contract in his hands forces him to.
He made a joke, and now he's in a situation that may or may not kind of ruin him.
But, like much of his half-life, it is too lateâDanny is already halfway in with no real way of coming back out without turning into an evil version of himself that destroys not only the Justice League, but the entire world.
Danny may or may not be entirely too dramatic for a crush gone rogue on his boss, but in this moment he feels it matches the vibe.
(Seriously though, cheating on one test destroys the world? Only Danny's life could be so fucked up, really.)
It's just that, with an almost complete contract in his hand, it suddenly feels like a lot, is what Danny is trying to get at.
Because of courseâof course, Danny's brain decides to finally focus on the tornado around him.
He can hear Tim's soft breathing, the occasional sip of coffee he takes that is no doubt just for show because that coffee cannot still be warm at this point.
And the fact that that is cute to Danny? The fact that Danny finds this man's thoroughness in a contract for a fake relationship utterly endearing? Means that Danny just has to face the truth.
Danny has a capital C, possibly all CAPS, CRUSH on Timothy Drake-Wayne.
It's kind of fucking dire.
Like he finally understands what the hell Tucker was going on aboutâhe barely knew Tim beyond magazine covers one week ago. Eavesdropped on two conversationsâonly had one and half with the man himself.
And yes, Timothy Drake-Wayne is obviously hot, but one laugh and Danny's fucking gone?
That's insane. Like, Vlad's obsession with Danny's mom kind of insane.
Actually, Danny is dismayed to realize, it's even worse because Vlad knew his mom for at least a semester, probably even longer before he became obsessed. And, he begrudgingly adds to himself, being a Halfa ups the insanity to ghost standards really fucking easily so it's not even surprising that he did.
Danny is in his thirtiesâhe's been a Halfa for more than half his life. He has got get a fucking grip.
He will not make Vlad's fucking mistakes even if it will kill him. He can still come back from this if he leaves now.
"We can still come back from this, you know." Tim offhandedly offers, as if he can read Danny's fucking mind. "We can forget this whole thing, maybe even stage a break up now if it gets too crazy. Because it will get crazy, with my family."
Danny stares at Tim over the contract, hand still poised to sign.
"I wouldn't blame you." Tim continues, looking for all the world calm and collected as he meets Danny's gaze sincerely. "I've said crazier shit, offered crazier things that I didn't really mean, or regretted a second later. I get it."
And the worst part of it is that this is way more reasonable. Staging a break up now, instead of after attending to a wedding and pretending to be dating for at least 2 and a half months, makes way more sense.
When was the last time you had fun?
"Thanks." Danny smiles softly, ignoring the erratic beating of his heart and the voice in the back of his head that insists this isn't what Jazz meant. "But I'm actually looking forward to it, you know? Remember, I've always wanted to be part of a Hallmark movie."
Tim laughs, soft this time. It's no less devastating than the other laugh that tilted Danny's world on its axis, but it at least softens to blow.
Danny's certainly done stupider shit in his life, and hey, maybe if this really is a Hallmark movie it'll all work out.
Danny inwardly scoffs. The likelihood of Tim falling for Danny is zero to none butâŠbad idea or not, he knows he'll at least have fun with it.
this chapter has chats and coding involved, which is best viewed here on AO3! I have, however, taken screen shots below to do a janky version on tumblr below the cut
This and the next chapter has somehow become a giant 10 artist collab, featuring a number of my friends from @haunting-heroes-creative-games (HHD Server)! credits will be given below the cut as well, so as not to spoil!
Danny's day as a newly minted fake boyfriend starts simple: with an explosion and a frosty gust of wind during his daily commute to work.
Screams start to fill the air as people run past him to get away fromâŠsomething. Judging by the familiar crackle of ice, that something is actually a someone Danny is very familiar with.
"Hey Victor!" Danny yells above the din, hand cupping his mouth to try and be heard, "Whatcha got there, bud?"
Victor (or more accurately Mr. Freeze at the moment) well, freezes at the sound of Danny's voice. "Danny? My boy, what are you doing here?"
Danny lifts up his to go cup and jabs a thumb to his right, where his favorite coffee shop is. "Getting coffee before work."
"Ah, yes." Victor nods sagely, "the ambrosia of life. I trust you are not drinking too much of it as to be detrimental to your health?"
Danny puts up three fingers in a mock scout's salute. "Promise, I'm taking care of my health."
Victor seems to accept that, holstering what looks like a signature freeze gun. The streets are partially frozen solid, there are even a few men here or there frozen to the asphalt struggling to get free.
Danny sighs. "So what's all this about?"
The rogue shifts uncomfortably. "Nothing, nothing my dear boy. Nothing for you to worry about."
"VictorâŠ" Danny starts, before he realizes he's not sure how to finish his sentence.
He'd thought they'd been over thisâDanny's no Jazz, but he thought Victor was doing better. Ever since Nora had disappeared, there should have been no reason for Victor to go wild like this.
The man mainly went rogue to try and cure his wife, after all. Even if said wife went rogue herself upon waking and immediately absconded. Sure, that really freaking sucks, but theoretically Victor should be focusing on recovery and getting his own body back into equilibrium, rather than more rogue attacks.
Though, Danny supposes, this might be a heartbreak rogue attack. Nora is a touchy subject in Gotham, still fresh. Mr. Freeze seems to be doing his thing, so maybe Danny should take this at face value. It's not his business, and he's never met the woman either. Victor doesn't talk about her, so Danny won't.
The trouble with this revelation is that now it's even more important Danny figure out how to finish his sentence.
"Victor," Danny tries again, "Are you alright?"
Victor seems to slump at that, but doesn't answer. That in and of itself is an answer, of course, but it doesn't make Danny feel any good about the silence that descends upon them.
Thankfully, a hero in many different meanings jumps to their rescue.
"Mr. Freeze!" A husky voice calls out, Gotham's one and only day time vigilante rolling onto the scene on that sleek motorbike of his. He drifts to a stop, confused, when he sees Danny and Victor just standing there, doing nothing. "Uh. I was going to say cease and desist, but I see that you'veâŠkind of already done that?"
"Yes, yes." Victor flaps a hand, tiredly. "I was just. Acting out, I suppose. Old habits die hard, don't they my boy?"
"That's true." Danny agrees amiably, relaxing. "Maybe next time try drinking your sorrows away?"
"Alcoholism is an ever rising epidemic on our world." Victor sniffs, before slumping again. "But I suppose you're right. Will you be taking me away, Signal?"
"UhâŠno?" Signal scratches his neck, "If you uh, promise to head home, I guess? I'm not the cops."
"How about we grab dinner after I'm done with work, Victor?" Danny soothingly offers, "I can text you?"
"Of course, of course." Victor smiles, walking over to pat Danny on the head. This makes a hilarious tableau, considering Danny is a good couple inches taller. "Let me know, there is a nice Italian place nearbyâŠ"
Victor makes his swift retreat then, and now a different kind of silence descends upon the streets as Danny makes his way over to the trapped men and starts to thaw them out using his ice powers.
"You're a meta?" Signal asks, as he follows Danny during the process. "Ice powers?"
"Minor." Danny shrugs, he and his sister long having this cover story in their pocket. "I can cool down coffee, or thaw out small chunks of ice. Like this."
Danny thaws out the last person, before dusting himself off. "I'm sorry about Victor. He's beenâŠ"
"Heartbroken." Signal finishes when Danny trails off. "Yeah, we know. I'm uh, glad he has you though?"
"I jammed his ice gun a year back." Danny laughs weakly. "And long story short, my sister's a therapist and I'm kind of nosey and yappy. We exchanged Discords."
Signal whistles. "Not sure how we didn't hear about it before, but as long as it keeps him off the streets it's not any of our business."
"A nice, refreshing take." Danny smiles, "Cops back home would have arrested him anyway."
"I'm a vigilante, not a hero." Signal shrugs, as sirens start to sound, "And that's my cue. See ya, dude!"
"Bye!" Danny waves, as Signal disappears in a cloud of exhaust smoke. He sighs for a moment, before turning to head to work.
And then, of course, he slips on some melted ice and spills his coffee.
No coffee, and he's late for work. Great.
Danny's squinting at his laptop, bored out of his damn mind and feeling like he's going insane because that was definitely a three in this box earlier, when the soft tak of a paper cup is set beside him.
Warmth hovers behind his back, an arm reaching over his shoulder as it leans on the table beside the cup that was just placedâanother to-go cup from his favorite coffee shop with what smells like hot chocolate steaming from inside it. Following the arm has Danny leaning back, tilting his head up to meet a truly lovely and handsome face.
Aware that it is suddenly very quiet around the lab, with eyes all around staring holes into his and Tim's backs, Danny quietly smiles. "Good morning,"
That lovely red blush starts to creep from beneath Tim's collar as he clearly makes the effort to keep eye contact with Danny. They didn't really talk about PDA beyond Tim's family, but if Tim wants to carry the ruse to the rest of WE he wouldn't mind.
"Morning," Tim shyly mumbles, pausing for a moment before determinedly tacking on a soft, "Babe."
This is Tim, clearly, making a statement. And when Tim tilts a little, practically begging for a morning greeting well, who is Danny to deny him? It's in the contract after all. He leans up, and places a soft kiss on Tim's cheek.
Danny tries to calm his heart from beating out his chest as he focuses on other things, tapping at the hot chocolate. "Is this for me?"
"Since you had a bit of a busy morningâŠ" Tim nods, pulling away and turning to lean against Danny's desk on his left hand side. "I was worried."
Tim's warmth shifting away leaves Danny a bit bereft, which distracts him for a moment from Tim's words. When he finally registers them, Danny has to take a deep breath.
Danny's gotta hand it to Tim, he's a very good actor. Danny is beside himself because shit, this is very thoughtful of Tim, and Tim would make a really nice boyfriend. A real one, that is, and Danny wants to be a good boyfriend back, even if it's fake.
Think, Danny. What would a real boyfriend do?
He reaches up slowly, taking Tim's hands into his own and leaning closer as he looks up at Tim with what he hopes is reassuring eyes. "I'm fine, safe and sound. See?"
Tim twitches, inhaling slowly before letting it go. The other man's hands slide up his arms, one hand gripping his forearm and the other traveling lightly to Danny's chest. His entire countenance slumps in relief, and even though Danny knows this is all fake, it feels real.
Tim leans in, as if to reassure himself, and Danny is lost to the feeling of it. Lost to warmth getting back into his orbit again, to the scent of the manâsandalwood and leather and other things Danny can't name.
And then Tim's breath ghosts over his ear, and reality begins crashing down again. "Your pulse is irregular, is this something I should know about?"
Danny blinks, frozen for a moment before a gasp from somewhere behind Tim reminds Danny that they aren't alone. He leans in, voice low for just them, "I have a heart condition, nothing seriousâjust arrhythmia from an incident when I was younger."
Tim nods, imperceptibly, before jolting and sitting up quickly when a small clatter informs them that the room at large is definitely watching.
Tim clears his throat, as if embarrassed, before pouting adorably. "You never told me you knew Mr. Freeze."
Danny blinks, a little off kilter by the cutest CEO to ever grace his workspace. "I, uh. Well you know how I have those minor ice powers?"
Tim gives him a look, squeezing his arm in a way that not only reminds Danny that Tim is still holding onto him, but also that Tim did not in fact, know this about Danny. Oops.
But Tim hums as if he does know, and so Danny powers on, sweaty and terribly apologetic and trying not to show it. "So uh, Iâhm."
"You�" Tim encourages, letting Danny go to cross his arms and wait him out. Which is not what Danny wanted at all, but he will consider it punishment.
Danny winces, shoulders coming up to his ears. "I jammed his gun once, and the rest is history?"
There's a long pause before Tim chuckles, granting Danny a soft smile he wishes were real. "Right. Of course, because that totally makes sense."
Danny sheepishly smiles up at him. "Well, I meanâit's not like you're any stranger to rogue attacks right?"
Tim huffs, shaking his head. "Fine, fine. Just because you're rightâ"
"A rare occurrence with a genius boyfriend, I knowâ" Danny can't help but laugh, Tim blinking before blushing again.
"You're one to talk." Tim grumbles, once again pouting in the most adorable fashion. A phone rings, Tim suddenly switching back to 'work mode.'
A short conversation later, and Tim has to apologetically whisper at Danny as he covers the receiver to his phone. "Gotta go, text me?"
"As soon as I'm heading home." Danny agrees, and even if Tim is just saying that for appearances he definitely will.
Tim had assured Danny that he didn't actually need to text Tim on a daily basis, he could just report whatever he thought was necessary for Tim to know, but Danny is determined to come out of this with some conversation with the man. The conversations they've already had at least prove it to be a promising endeavor.
If Danny's gonna end up alone at the end of this anyway, he might as well milk the companionship as much as he can.
(And if he distantly dreams that maybe Danny could be charming enough to actually romance Tim, then that's between him and Nocturne.)
Tim bites his lips, smiling a little bit before glancing around. He leans down once more, moving so the phone is not in the way, and Danny knows this now, he's learned.
He leans up and gives Tim another kiss on the cheek, soft as he can manage it, with Tim leaving one on Danny's cheek in exchange.
He might be imagining it, but he thinks maybe Tim shivers a bit at the touch. But before he can really process it, Tim is already out the door with a sad little smile and a wave as he continues to speak lowly into his phone.
There's a moment where Danny stares at the now empty doorway, forlorn, with a tingley cheek and an erratically beating heart.
Then one of his coworkers, Anania, slams a hand on his desk.
"What the hell was that, Nightingale?"
And just like that, the floodgates have opened and the rest of his coworkers descend like a pack of hyenas. Danny grimaces, and resolves himself to a very torturous work day full of questions and powerpoint headaches.
He just needs to survive the rest of the day, and then he can go drink with Victorâhe's at least got that going for him.
(And if his lips and cheek tingle throughout the day, that's another secret between him and Nocturne.)
Danny has a hangover.
It is actively bullshit that he can heal from literally any injury barring the involvement of blood blossoms and ectoranium when he's Phantom, but six shots of tequila and maybe half a bottle of rum and he feels like Death Thrice Over.
He should never have gone so hard, he was only supposed to be there for Victor, not get drunk with Victor. And Pamela, and Harley, and there was a moment where Penguin came down specifically to laugh at themâ
Danny's head pounds, and he groans into his hands.
When he texted Tim about it last night, the other man made some sympathetic overtures but a part of Danny suspects that Tim was definitely laughing at his situation.
Danny's not sure if it's better that he didn't laugh at him for eight minutes straight like Sam and Tuck did, or if it's worse because that means they aren't that close yet.
Either way the mortification upon waking was terrible and devastating.
Then again, Tim worrying about Danny's hangover during their good morning text exchange was really nice.
Tim is really nice. The good morning text in and of itself was a pleasant surprise, and is the only reason Danny is even existing right now, actually.
Danny has chosen one of the smaller conference rooms as his base of operations today. He's fruitlessly trying to get this powerpoint in order again, but someone's changed a bunch of the numbers and it's not adding up anymore.
He heavily suspects it's Maisie, but Danny can't prove it yet. She keeps insisting the equations are wrong, even though they are correct, and he thinks that maybe she's been substituting her equations in and fucking everything up. But the hangover is making the numbers all wibbly wobbly right now so he might just give up and head to the lab to tinker with some other projects instead.
Retribution on Maisie will just have to wait another day, when hell isn't banging around inside his head.
"As expected," An unfamiliar voice tsks from beside Danny, "Timothy has poor taste in paramours."
Danny jolts, blearily looking up at a childâno, a teenager sniffing his nose up at him. He didn't even hear the door open, nor any footsteps.
The teenager is familiar, but it takes him a moment to realize whyâDamian Wayne is one of the more public Wayne children but either due to his age or impeccable upbringing doesn't make the headlines all the much. Not right now, anyway.
When he had first been brought onto the social scene, the tabloids had a field day about himâabout his mother's origins and the supposed combative behavior the boy had in response to the other socialites and reporters on the scene.
If you ask Danny, little Damian should have been more violent. With what they were saying about him, about his mom before they even met him? Yeah, Danny would have stabbed a guy or three too.
"I would say I'm offended," Danny wipes a hand down his face, "but I am also not sure why your brother chose meâbelieve me, I count my blessings all the time."
Damian seems a little thrown off by that, probably expecting some kind of push back.
He'll be disappointed in more ways than one, if that's the case.
"I have heard you are afraid of commitment." Damian tries again, and jeez, this kid is as blunt as they say.
"I am." Danny agrees, smiling a little ruefully up at the kid. "But even I'm not dumb enough to squander a chance I've been given."
"At the risk of sounding like an absolute asshole," Danny sighs, leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling. "Your brother is like, adorable to an illegal extent. Plus he's funny and smart? Come onâI had no chance."
"âŠI fail to see why this makes you anâŠ" Damian pauses, and when Danny glances at the boy it looks like he's unhappy he's about to say something distasteful, "absolute asshole."
"Well, if I were in your position," Danny smirks, "I wouldn't want to hear how attractive my sibling is."
Damian takes a moment to think about that, seeming to consider Danny's words and the situation. From Danny's position, the boy might be trying to give Danny a shovel talk.
Jokes on him, Danny's grave is a metal portal that's been permanently shut down. No shovels involved.
"My parents are exceedingly attractive." Damian finally says, looking perplexed. "My siblings as well. It is of no consequence to state a fact that I am very familiar with."
"âŠMaybe it's different," Danny smiles, "you're a teen heart-throb yourself, aren't you?"
Damian blushes, hard to see due to the teen's dark skin but definitely there in the tips of his ears. Adorable must run in this family, seriously. "If you are implying you are not attractive, I am sure my brother will beg to differ."
"Sure," Danny shrugs, reaching up to ruffle Damian's spikey hair. Miracle upon miracles, the boy does not stab him for it. "But I'm hardly front page cover status. Don't worry little man, I know where I stand."
Danny laughs a bit, self deprecatingly. He knows he's not ugly, but seriously, Danny isn't all that.
But Damian must not like that joke, because he scrunches up his face in clear reluctance. "Perhaps, but you are worthy of being Timothy's wallpaper."
Danny's brain screeches to a stop. "âŠCome again?"
"His wallpaper." Damian says slowly, as if Danny is dumb. Which is fair, because he feels dumb right now. "There is a picture of you on his cellphone. You are shirtless."
"Iâ" Danny blinks, a little thrown off. Because what. But now is not the time for that, now is the time to keep their cover, "I didn't know he made it his wallpaper."
Thankfully, all those years of hiding his ghost side from his parents have paid off. Because Danny didn't know Tim had a picture to make his wallpaper in the first place, much less a shirtless one, and they would be fucked if Damian found that out.
Did Danny send him drunk shirtless selfies? He doesn't remember doing so, but he wouldn't put it past himself. He's never been the type to forget what he does when he's drunk though, and he's never gotten blackout drunk before.
Whether due to his original constitution or his powers making it so, Danny's actually pretty strong when it comes to alcohol. The aftermath is brutal, of course, but it's not like fast healing will solve a hangover. Danny's got a fast metabolism and supernatural musclesâthat doesn't exactly extend to his body creating water in order to combat dehydration.
He knows, he's asked Frostbite about it before.
"Well now you are aware," Damian crosses his arms again, smirking like he's finally found solid ground. "He has many photos of you. It is embarrassing how much, actually."
He's probably decided if he can't give Danny a shovel talk, he can at least embarrass his brother. Which is fairâas a little brother himself he understands completely.
Still, it doesn't make Danny's panic go away. He definitely did not send Tim drunk selfies, right? No, but he would have seen the history when he texted with Tim this morning, surely? Then again, Danny's never been good in the mornings, and he wouldn't put it past Drunk Danny not to delete it.
Much as Danny is aware of his drunken escapades, that doesn't mean he and Drunk Danny are friends. That guy is a complete and total dumbassâDanny's never been good with his impulses and Drunk Danny is even worse.
Seriously, 'babe would you consider turnign off autocorecct fr me'???? Danny is livid with his past drunken self.
Danny's hand twitches, wanting to check his phone immediately. If he did send Tim an abundance of drunk selfies, he hopes they were good ones. One of them must be, if Tim deemed it good enough to make it his wallpaper. Danny tries to remember when the last time he went to the gym was.
Wait, that's irrelevantâDanny has supernatural muscles. But Danny's not exactly skinny like he was in high school. He's firmly taken after Jack, and though he isn't as buff as Dan is he's prettyâŠup there. What if Tim doesn't like that? Supernatural muscles aside, it's not like he has a six pack or anythingâhe's just a little on the stockier side, what did Ellie call it? A dad bod?
Shit, Ellie is his cloneâis he technically a dad? But they decided on siblings andâ
Thankfully before he can spiral any further, a loud banging sound smacks him straight back to Earth, where Damian Wayne is looking at him way too closely for his comfort and his headache is getting kind of worse about it.
When he looks over, Tim is there at the door huffing and puffing and looking irritated beyond belief.
"Dami!" Tim looks a little distraught, like that time when Hurricane Steph plunged them into this facade in the first place. Distantly, Danny thinks that maybe he has this expression exclusively for his family. "I told you not to bother him at work."
"Tt." Damian clicks his tongue, looking less than impressed. "Did you, or did you not bother him at work just yesterday?"
"Yeah, but I am his boyfriend." Tim scrunches his nose at Damian in the cutest way possible as he makes his way to them. "And you are just a random teenager."
And then Tim turns to Danny, smiling the smile of angels and Danny's brain kind of goes mush. "Hi, Danny."
He reaches up to hook his arms over Danny's shoulders, and Danny is helpless but to stand up and bend down to return the hug. "Hi, Tim."
"Don't freak out." Tim whispers into his ear, and this is good, this is easy for Danny.
It's hard to freak out when you have an armful of hot fake boyfriend and you're actually expected to make it look good. So he does as he's bid and doesn't freak out and squeezes Tim like he's missed him and hasn't seen him in ages even though they just saw each other yesterday.
This is also easy, because Danny is easy and he did actually miss Tim.
He wraps his arms around Tim's waist, burying his face into the crook of his fake boyfriend's neck and breathes in. Tim has a different cologne on, this time of something musky and light, so Danny tries to focus on that instead of his headache. Tim squeezes a little bit in response, the arms around Danny's neck a solid reminder that life surrounds him and grounds him in turn.
Who knew a hug could cure a hangover so effectively? Danny didn'tâhe feels like there should be a powerpoint for this discovery, actually, instead of his own dumb project about water filtration systems.
Like, sure, it mostly solves the whole danger from poison in the watering well issue Gotham constantly has, but hugs from hot men curing hangovers? That's where it's at.
"What am I not freaking out about?" Danny mumbles into Tim's neck, feeling the man in his arms shiver a little. "The pictures, or your family coming to accost me?"
This time, Tim flinches a little. When he pulls back a little he gives Danny a sheepish little smile. "âŠBoth?"
Danny chuckles, but recognizes this is definitely not the time or place. Damian is tapping his foot impatiently and adamantly looking the other way as if they are doing something scandalous.
Tim steps away, but Danny doesn't let him get far. He sits back down so that the two Waynes don't have to look up at him, hooking an arm around Tim's waist and pulling him closer. He had only meant to convey intimacy, but Tim takes it a step further and leans into Danny, draping an arm across Danny's shoulders to balance himself a little.
A little pang runs through Danny, as he realizes it must be his body remembering what he'd done with his exes. Danny's not really a jealous guy, Tim's past is his past, but it does remind Danny very bluntly that this is all fake.
It kind of hurts how natural Tim feels in Danny's arms. But he's determined to make the most of it so he places that aside for later.
"Are you happy now, you little gremlin?" Tim glares as Damian.
Damian takes a moment to examine them, and presumably their comfort and ease with each other. Danny tries not to hold his breathâhe doesn't actually need to breathe even as a human, but it's habit now and would be suspicious if he didn't.
"I suppose he is adequate." Damian sniffs, turning around and leaving without so much as a goodbye. "But I withhold the right to rescind that should he beâŠlacking in any way."
Tim sighs, leaning his head on Danny's for just a moment before straightening up and leaving his orbit entirely.
Danny feels bereft, seriously.
"Sorry about this. I probably should deal with that beforeâ" Tim rakes a hand through his hair, not finishing the thought and blowing out air in exasperation. "I'll text you, explain everything later, okay?"
"Of course, don't worry about it." Danny reassures, because even if he's confused at least this gives Danny an excuse to talk to Tim more. "Text me later."
"Thanks." Tim hurriedly says, pressing a quick kiss to his temple and rushing out after Damian. "Feel better, I left some headache meds by the coffee!"
Danny blinks, feeling warm where Tim's lips just were. When he glances down, there is indeed two little pills right next to the cup of coffee Damian brought him.
He stares at them for a moment before giving up and resigning himself to the tender mercies of his hangover.
He takes the pills and prays for strengthâhe has a feeling this won't be the last of the Wayne's he'll see.
FEATURED ART:
Danny's pfp: @phantomfen
Tim's pfp and Coffee on Street: @belfry-ghost
Shirtless Danny: @clockwaysarts
Another chapter with chats and coding involved, best viewed on AO3 (linked above!), so it will once again be under the cut!
The updated artist count is now ELEVEN, which is seriously crazy. I love my friends so much and am very thankful for them!!!
I have compiled a full list of the art being used in this and the previous chapter, which you can check out here! It should have blown up vers of the pfps, with artists and any links/full sized pieces listed as well!
Jason knows Tim is plotting something.
Jason knows it to the very core of himâTim is up to something.
Listen. Jason doesn't want to kill the kid anymore, but that doesn't mean he doesn't hold some kind of big ass grain of salt when Tim says something is totally kosher.
When Jason had apologized to Tim for trying to kill him at Titan's Tower, he sincerely meant itâit wasn't fair, after all, considering Bruce was the one who replaced him. It wasn't fair for Jason to put all this homicidal rage at a kid just trying to help, to use the kid as a tool to help Batman see the error of his ways in appointing child soldiers.
So yeah, he manned up. He apologized, and he meant it. Did some soul searching and everything.
That is, until he found out Tim inserted himself into the job. Then that trusty homicidal rage came pouring back in, because what the fuck, man?
Was it better in the long run? Sure, you can't really picture Gotham without a Robin running around after all. Did it set precedent?
Well, let's see. There's Steph, with her home made costume. There's Duke, with the whole street gang war thing.
âŠYeah. It set fucking precedent. And Jason's still fucking mad about it.
Damian, at least, Jason will own up to. Jason had a hand in raising the tyke after all, mad with pit water as he was.
The point is, from that point on it's been an uphill fucking battle with the little blue blood. Don't even get him started on that whole 99 clone and evil future self bullshit Tim got up to.
"Youthful indiscretions" his fucking ass.
The most important thing about this is that he didn't actually believe Tim was hiding a fucking relationship from the family. Not even once.
But Jason called him, just like his other siblings expected him to, and dug. Because even if Jason said something about it, or didn't call, it would end in the same stupid result: Tim not giving him any information on what is actually happening.
Jason actually thinks Tim's been hiding one of those aforementioned indiscretions, as opposed to a whole ass relationship.
He's pretty sure Tim is doing something mad illegal. Like criminal rogue type shit. He's 89% percent sure, even, and that this relationship thing with this Danny guy is a farce.
He thinks that maybe this Danny character might be an accomplice even, if not a whole ass fucking instigator.
But ultimately, it doesn't matter if it is or is not true. Why would Jason throw rocks from his awesome, well defensible and reasonable glass house after all?
He's not looking to start shit really, he just wants to do his brotherly duty and be annoying. Possibly dig up blackmail, maybe figure out how to metaphorically go to Tim's room, fart, and then leave with the door still open.
You know, regular brother shit, just with added crime and possible violence. To either Tim or Danny, he's not really picky.
That is until, three months into the charade, he realizes that Tim's Danny is the same Danny that lives just down the hall from Jason.
Danny Nightingale, who reminded Jason of his brotherâthe brother from before the Bats invaded his life, before he died, before Danny Todd died.
The same neighbor who respects his boundaries, enjoys his baking, and genuinely helps the people around him. The same guy he exchanges food with on occasion, who helps Mrs. Martinez carry her groceries up and feeds the stray cat population that seems to pester the entire block.
Jason's first thought is that he didn't think Danny had it in him.
But then again, Saint Dickolas moonlights as a dangerous vigilante, so it wouldn't be too far fetched for Danny to have a whole other life. Jason hasn't dug into it, really. Not beyond the basics for his own safety.
There is the whole thing with the Nightingales' former parents (does it count as former if they're still alive, justâŠdisowned, or is there another term for that?) being borderline mad scientists, but with the Nightingale siblings firmly taking a stance against them Jason was less inclined to think they've gone down that route.
Still, that doesn't discount the possibility that Danny and Tim are committing crimes together, and aren't actually in a relationship.
Which leads Jason to his second, more important thought:
Danny hypothetically leads a secret life of crime and he's doing it with Tim?
Jason is Red HoodâJason has been trained by Batman, has been trained as an assassin and a fucking mercenary at one point. Jason is a crime lord! He's the Crime Lord, even!
Why the hell isn't Danny committing crimes with Jason?!
Granted, Danny probably doesn't know Jason is knee deep in crimes since that's kind of the point of being trained for this kind of shit but still. It's the principle of the thing.
Jason will be damned if Tim will take another thing from him, especially since Jason is clearly the better fucking choice in crime doing, so obviously the best course of action here is to bust open this fake relationship thing and take Tim's place in being Danny's partner in crime and only crime.
(Maybe a partner in bread and pastries too, he could use some more help with the bakery. Maria and Sybil can handle it, obviously, but more helping hands wouldn't hurt.)
Which is how Jason spends an entire afternoon bugging the guy's place, though he made sure to stay away from the bedroom area on the slim chance it was actually true that he was in a relationship with Tim.
(Jason refuses to think about his brother's sex life and therefore refuses to think about the possibility they take it outside the bedroom. In his mind, Tim and Danny will hold hands under the covers in the bedroom and that is that. Nothing more.)
All told, three weeks of surveillance proves not much of anything beyond things Jason already knew about Danny. It seems like now that the cat is out of the bag the so-called couple spends more time at Tim's penthouse apartment than at Danny's, and whilst it would be interesting to try and bug the penthouse in a way that Tim won't catch him Jason doesn't want his brother on his case about it yet.
Still, he's not giving up so he occasionally checks the logs here and there, hopeful for some kind of proof.
According to Tim's not-so-secret secret calendar, Danny should still be visiting back home to celebrate some kind of family tradition so he's not actually expecting anything to show up in the logs today.
But his bugs pick up a noise so he tunes in, just in case it's Tim suspecting Bat interference.
The rattling of a door can be heard, followed by the thump of bags being thrown onto the ground indelicately. There's a grunt, and a low voice grumbling about messy brothers and something or other that's hard to pick up. He focused his bugs mostly in the living room, so the mystery person must be talking too low for the audio to pick up.
"âŠI know, Spike." A feminine voice sighs, footsteps and voice coming closer, "Believe me, I know. But it's not the first time Danny has hidden something from me, and it surely won't be the last."
There's a rustle, and a textile plop as someone rests themselves on one of the seating options in the living roomâjudging by the clarity of the voice, it's likely to be the sofa.
There's a long pause as the voice presumably listens to the other person on what is obviously a phone call.
"You know my brotherâ" The voice coughs, cutting themselves off before suddenly going a little low like they're hurt, "I just don't understand why he wouldn't tell me about this mysterious boyfriend until now."
More rustling, another plop, and a sigh. "No, you're right. IâŠdefinitely would not tell Danny if I were in a situationship either. That is too much information even for me."
Another pause. Jason realizes, in this moment, that the voice must be Jasmine Nightingale, Danny's older sister. Checking the calendar doesn't clarify why she is in her brother's apartment two days ahead of schedule, but at least Jason is getting some kind of clarityâeven if it's not the kind of clarity he needs.
On one hand, the woman has a point. Jason would never divulge a situationship to his siblings, after all. That is way too mortifying to even fathomâbut on the other hand he knows Steph wouldn't hesitate. And Dickâwell.
Dick's situationships usually did all the spilling, so his brother never actually had to tell the family anything. It's fucked up that Nightwing's business is always on full blast, with the flimsy excuse of him being the most attractive hero on the scene or whatever fucking bullshit they wanna spout to justify their objectification of his brother, but hopefully with his upcoming nuptials that will ease up a bit.
And then, of course, there's the other third hand: That Danny hid the situationship from his sister because they really are in a fake relationship to cover up the crimes they are committing.
Jason is heavily invested in this mythical third hand.
"I just don't know about this Tim guy." Jasmine continues, sneer obvious in her tone. "I know Danny's afraid of commitment but he's weak to his desiresâthere's no way the situationship stayed that way because of Danny. Do you think he strung Danny along until his hand was forced?"
Jason bristles a little bit. Two wolves are battling inside him. One wolf sneersâloathe as he is to say it, if this were real Tim would never string a guy along like that. Not on purpose anyway. The other wolf cackles, because Tim totally doesn't deserve Danny anyway.
Jasmine laughs after a moment. "Well. That's certainly a positive spin to put on it. My how we've grown!"
Another pause, before Jasmine grunts, footsteps getting farther away. "It doesn't matter. I've got three days in Gotham, andâ"
Jasmine cuts herself off, everything suddenly going eerily silent. Jason stiffens. What happened?
"Yes, Spike. I'm still here." Jasmine's tone brings a shiver down Jason's spineâdeadly and very very clear. Close.
"âŠVlad." Jasmine growls, the mic on the bug creaking loudly, as if it is being squeezed with extreme force.
"Spike, I'm going to have to call you back." Jasmine cheerfully bids her friend goodbye, before silence once again befalls the room.
"Vlad, if you're listening to this, that means you have not learned your lesson." Jasmine carefully enunciates each and every syllable. "It means you broke your promise to leave us alone, and that means you will die."
Jason perks up. Whatâ
"I will kill you, over and over and over again." Jasmine says very slowly, "And then I will happily bring you to the tender mercies of my brotherâthe older one. Do you understand?"
Before Jason can really comprehend anything, the audio peaks in a loud crackle and one by one in quick succession all of his bugs are being broken swiftly and methodically.
Jason lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Well, fuck. Fuck. Is this Vlad guy going to die because of Jason?
Jason has a lot of blood on his hands, sure, but nothing likeâshit. Who the hell is Vlad, and how the fuck is Jason supposed to save him?
Wait. Thinking on itâwhy should Jason save him? Context clues tell Jason this Vlad guy is bad newsâthat he's planted bugs to monitor Danny before, maybe even to monitor Jasmine too.
Which. Creep move. What the fuck, this Vlad guy should totally dieâeven if he didn't do it this time, Jason has very little faith in humanity. He has no doubts this Vlad asshole would be a repeat offender.
Fuck Vlad. Jasmine should totally murderize that guy. As a treat.
Jason supports women's rights and wrongs, thanks very much.
Vlad Masters was having a good day, all things considered.
Peaceful, really. Despite Daniel and Jasmine shutting him out of their lives, despite young Ellie's long stints away and short awkward stays in between, despite Maddie and Jack being in shambles with their portal now closed and their work now seized and labeled as bigotry, Vlad is doingâŠOkay.
He's doing fine, really. His Obsession being what is essentially a poor man's version of Envy, morphed from his true Obsession of Family being warped beyond repair due trauma and ego, makes it difficult to fulfill but he manages. He's managing.
He's started dating, and is trying to be a better father to Ellie. She doesn't visit often, and takes his calls very rarely, but she does answer his texts so he calls it a win. He's even tried his hand at writing letters to Dan, though he hasn't gotten a reply yet.
It's not exactly living the dream, but working towards it soothes the ache and the insanity.
Obsessions are weird like that, as Daniel once said. Nebulous, andâŠvague.
With Vlad taking so long to truly figure his out after chasing after the wrong thing for such a staggering amount of time, it just made the waters even muddier, so to speak.
But truly, he has been having a good day. A peaceful day.
âŠSo why does he feel like Death herself comes upon him?
"Do you want to pick my color?" Danny asks Tim quietly, nudging their shoulders together like it's some kind of secret they're sharing and not getting manipedis in a large group of his boyfriend's family members.
Danny's smiling in a way that makes Dick's heart kind of squiggle, because seriously, the two of them are so cute.
"Only if you pick mine." Don't even get him started on Tim's smile back, he can hardly stand it. He hasn't seen Tim this happy in forever.
Danny looks at the wide expansive wall of polishes. "I don't know if you wanna trust my taste."
"You just don't want to pick." Tim accuses, before his eyes widen dramatically as he points at his boyfriend. "You're being lazy."
"I am not being lazy!" Danny argues, pushing his hand so that Tim's fingers loosen and he can slip his in. "I just think you have better taste."
"I will not be falling for your lies." Tim scoffs, changing the grip of their hands and letting them fall between them.
"But you'll fall for me," Danny smirks, leaning in close for a moment. "Right?"
Tim sputters, smacking at a laughing Danny. Tim turns away, pouting a bit as Danny tries to placate Tim. When that fails, he bargains, grabbing swatches and polishes and pleading with Tim. "Alright I'll stop, I'll stopâsee? I'm picking a color, I promise."
Tim rolls his eyes, but he relents and lets Danny be silly, standing still as Danny bids so that he can put colors up to his face.
"It's patently unfair that you look good in everything." Danny says, another swatch in his hand that he twists this way and that. "Why do you look good in everything?"
Tim blushes, a familiar blush that crawls up his neck. "I don't look good in everything."
"Not from where I'm standing." Danny mumbles as his brows furrow in serious thought over colors.
Tim, looking exasperated and flattered and beside himself about it, awkwardly covers his face. "Oh my god. I'm going over there to pick my colors."
"Stop staring," Aunt Kate says from beside him, ruffling his hair like he's a child and not almost forty, "and pick a color, Dickie."
Dick runs a hand through his hair, fixing it so that it's not as much of a mess before smiling towards his aunt. "Can't help it, they're just so cuteâlook at them!"
Dick gestures expansively at where Tim delicately picks a red color that looks quite similar to the red of his vigilante suit. Dick squints, and sure enough Tim picks up a yellow too, to complete the set.
"I know, I know." Aunt Kate smiles, nodding towards where Danny is haphazardly putting up swatches and polishes towards Tim. "I feel the same way when I see you with Kori, you know?"
Dick feels a warmth flow over him at the mention of his fiance. His fiance. His fiance!!!
He'll never get tired of that. It's been a long time coming, with a lot of ups and downs and intergalactic politics, but finally, it's happening.
He gets to be Koriander's husband.
He could scream, really. He won't, but it's a near thing, always. He wishes she were here now, but she declined on account of some thing she has with the Outlaws. Jason was laughing at him about it earlier, texting him pictures of his fiance and mocking him.
Jokes on him, he saved all those pictures. Jaybird shows his care in increasingly convoluted ways, and Dick loves his brother for it.
"Tim, you can't be serious." Babs scoffs, plucking the polish out of Tim's hands. "Really?"
"What?" Tim's shoulders scrunch up, self conscious and embarrassed. He knows what, definitely, but they obviously can't explain it without Danny cluing in. He focuses on the wall of polishes again, decisively picking up another color and focusing intensely on it like the problem might go away if he ignores it enough.
"I think they're great colors." Dick chimes in, coming to stand beside his brother and draping his arm around his shoulders.
Tim starts to relax, thankfully, so Dick takes it a little step further. He shakes his brother as he bends a little to meet his brother's eyes. "Danny'd rock them, right Tim?"
Steph scoffs. "Yeah, but at what cost?"
"What do you mean?" Danny tilts his head, confused. He takes the polish and puts it up to the light. "These colors are nice."
Steph bites her lip. "They're just very loud, is all."
A hilarious blunder of a cover up, considering Steph is wearing bright purple leggings and has chosen this obnoxiously neon orange for her nails.
"Does it matter?" Danny scrunches his face. "I'm not exactly front facing."
"It doesn't." Aunt Kate reassures him, picking out a very nice deep red that matches her lipstick. "Do whatever you want kid."
Danny seems to consider this, before looking at the handful of polishes in his hands. It's an assortment of colorsâone of each, if Dick isn't mistaken, before he slowly begins to put everything away except for a very understated but bright blue.
It's icy, a pale almost pastel, with little shimmers in it that shine in the light that remind Dick of icicles and fresh ice and minuscule snowflakes flickering in bright winter sunshine.
"This one reminds me of you, but if you like another color that's okay too." Danny smiles nervously, handing it over to Tim. "I figure, you wear a lot of blue suits, right? But maybe it's a little too light?"
It would be comical if it weren't so sweetâhow Danny's fingers dwarf the tiny polish bottle and how delicately he holds it out to them like it's some kind of bomb. Tim looks like he's shut down at Danny noticing his suit colors, and subsequently chose a nail polish to match them, so Dick takes the polish for him. "That's very thoughtful of you, Danny."
Dick's voice seems to shake Tim out of his stupor, blushing and clutching the other polish he had found earlier like a lifeline. "Yeah, I like it a lot. It's very thoughtful of you. Thank you, babe."
And then Cass appears out of nowhere, steps silent as always but no less interrupting Tim and his flustered babbling, plucking the emotional support polish from Tim's hands. It's another blue, darker and deeper. It has these bigger flakes to them, not quite glitter but not quite a shimmer either, iridescent in the light.
It's not exactly a color he's seen Tim look for before, always more used to his brother picking reds and oranges in his downtime.
But then Cass takes the polish and puts it up against Danny's face, going so far as to tiptoe even though Danny automatically hunches down for her, and suddenly it makes sense.
It matches Danny's eyes, right down to the flecks of hazel.
Dick, starting to see a pattern, puts the polish Danny chose up against Tim's face.
An almost perfect match to Tim's pale blue eyes.
"I'm gonna gag." Steph says, breaking the moment. "Picking each other's eye colors? Seriously?"
Tim and Danny both blush, and even though it's cute beyond imagination Dick might also throw up. Like wow.
But Dick also has no leg to stand on, considering he picked a color that matches his fiance's hair.
"I think it's cute." Babs smiles, rolling over to a stop beside them. "Maybe switch, so you can have each other's?"
Cass and Dick wordlessly switch polishes, each depositing them back into Danny and Tim's hands as Steph gags more exaggeratedly in the background.
Aunt Kate, amused, pats Steph on the back in "support."
"Does everyone else have their colors?" Dick claps his hands, ready to get the party moving to give his brother a moment with his boyfriend. There is a serious concern about blood flow with how much the two are blushing from the inadvertent cheesiness of the situation.
"Wait!" Danny steps towards Steph, grabbing the red and yellow Tim picked out earlier. "I can put these on my toes."
Aunt Kate snorts. "This one's definitely a keeper, you hardly find any so whipped."
Tim hisses at Aunt Kate as Danny scratches the back of his neck bashfully.
"Are you going to have Danny choose the colors for your toes too?" Babs asks uncertainly. Dick understands, they've been taking a long time to pick their colors after all.
"No, it's okay." Tim shrugs, holding the polish Danny chose close to his chest. "I'll just pick my usualâblack and white."
For some reason, Danny smiles at that, like he's pleased about something. Dick abstractly remembers that he used to date a goth girl, didn't he? Maybe Danny's into that. Tim's been sort of out of his skater boy phase, but Dick remembers he would paint his nails black all the time back thenâespecially when he was sort of in that thing with Kon (or, if Tim is to be believed, not in any kind of thing with Kon because they never had a thing, Dick, how could say thatâ).
Dick smirks at the thought of digging up those photos and showing Danny. "We're all set then."
"I'm not even sure why you're here, Lucius." Bruce sighs, rubbing a finger against the space between his brows.
Here being a nice, unassuming cafe with a lovely variety of food options and frankly phenomenal coffee. They're seated in the innermost booth, next to each other on one bench with Bruce on the outside and facing the door because he's a paranoid old man.
"You know damn well why," Lucius huffs, pointing an accusatory finger at his long time friend. "You have been trying to get into Danny's files at WE. You've been sneaking around, and I won't allow it Bruce. I won't!"
"You and I both know that if I really wanted to, it'd be done already." Bruce rolls his eyes.
"And you and I both know that's horse shit." Lucius scoffs, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Barbara assured me she staved off the worse of it, and you know better than to dig through my things."
"Danny isn't yours," Bruce needles, precise in his pedantry as usual, "and he's not a thing to own, regardless."
"Danny is mine." Lucius shoots back, sharp like a batarang. "He's my engineer and a nice young man that I refuse to leave at your tender mercies."
"I'm just here to meet my son's boyfriend." Bruce's voice is soothing, almost pleading Lucius to be reasonable.
Lucius knows better.
"You're here to scare the living daylights out of him because he's dating your precious boy." Lucius elbows him. "I'm here so you have to play nice."
Bruce scoffs, but doesn't deny it. He knows better too.
There's a long moment of silence, because Bruce is insane and Lucius ambushed him on his way to stake out the cafe they're meeting the boys at an hour ahead of time. He knows Bruce is the world champ of silence and brooding, and usually Lucius is more than fine with that, but today he can't take it anymore.
So he makes the dreaded small talk. "Did you hear about what happened to Masters?"
Bruce takes a moment, humming. "Freak accident, supposedly."
Lucius does not want to be playing these games. He knows Bruce knows more than he lets on about the damn thing, he's Batman for Christ's sake.
"What kind of freak accident breaks both arms and legs, three ribs, and a singular big toe?" Lucius rolls his eyes. "Far as I know your family is the only one that participates in extreme sports."
"That's not true," Bruce drawls, but again Lucius ain't having it. He flaps a hand and scoffs.
"Yeah, yeah Queen is cut from the same cloth and don't even get us started on Lutherâ" Lucius nudges his shoulder against his friend, "seriously though. Should we be worried?"
"About Masters?" Bruce hums, thoughtfully. "Probably. About the world at large? No."
Lucius thinks on that for a moment, before slumping. "You know Masters is Danny's godfather?"
It's another rhetorical question. He knows Bruce knows. He knows Bruce knows Lucius kind of hates Master's work ethic and guts, and is very bitter about Danny's former parents' taste.
But Bruce surprises himâhe shouldn't, considering who his friend is and how much he cares about Lucius himself.
"It's not legally binding." Bruce rumbles, smug. "It may have been able to hold water in court before, but not after he changed his name and went under guardianship of his sister."
"Really?" Lucius perks up before slumping again. "What am I getting excited forâhe's 31, he's too old to need me in his life. I'm just his boss."
"You've been following his work since he was at Chicago U, haven't you?" Bruce thinks aloud, tapping a finger against his chin. "At one of those science fairs. It would make sense if you felt a little attachment."
"One year," Lucius can't help but say, "He made a working foldable motorcycle."
Bruce doesn't say anything in response, but it's his thoughtful, intrigued silence so Lucius continues.
"It folded up into a backpack that weighed 47.2 pounds." Lucius' voice is far off and distracted as he remembers the day he saw that project and met a then 22 year old Daniel Nightingale, freshly minted and free from his parents.
"He was disappointed," Lucius continues, disbelief coloring his tone, "because he couldn't find an engine light enough or small enough that could go the speeds he wanted it to go."
Bruce snorts, but placidly drinks the glass of water that the waitress gave them when they first sat down.
"He's been lonely." Lucius finally breaks. "I'm his boss so I haven't beenâŠbut I could tell he was lonely."
"So you're here to stop me from scaring Danny," Bruce guesses, "And I'm here so you don't scare Tim?"
Lucius slumps. "No, because I like Tim."
"So I'm here to make sure youâŠ" Bruce begins, trailing off, leading Lucius to finish for him.
"That I don't get mad at Tim for this wholeâŠ" Lucius twirls a hand. "What was it they said? Situationship?"
"According to Tim, it was that way on both accounts." Bruce warns, "Danny has a fear of commitment."
"And Tim has a night life and a record for getting engaged for the Greater Good." Lucius sniffs.
"That was Tam's idea." Bruce reminds him, as if Lucius isn't already fully aware his daughter did it for good reasons. The fake engagement they staged to save WE was thankfully handled well enough that it stayed out of the papers and was short enough that nobody outside that damn conference room that day could even really figure out it existed in the first place. Still, Lucius may or may not have the tiniest bit of grudges.
Microscopic even.
"How did they even meet?" Lucius changes the subject, and he'll deny it to his dying day but he's pouting, he's sure. "What do they even like about each other?"
It's a stupid question, he knows the merits of both boys, but Lucius is having Big Complicated Feelings right now.
"How is it you know so much and yet so little about your own employee?" Bruce chuckles, mocking and he swears to God this man is so annoying even after all these years still.
"I don't snoop into the personal lives of the people around me, Bruce." Lucius jabs a finger at his long time friend. And he didn't want to know, he doesn't say. Looking into the love lives of his children the people important to him is a dangerous and finicky path. You never really know what kind of TMI you get, and with the rainbow tinted unhinged lives the Bats live it's hard to get a straight answer, much less a real one.
"Right," Bruce grins, boyish gleeful, "you only follow their scientific exploits since they were in college and offer them a job."
"A foldable motorcycle Bruce." Lucius stresses, as if it will absolve him."And that was in his third year at his undergrad."
"No, you're right, it is very compelling." Bruce pauses, glancing sideways at Lucius. "Do you thinkâ?"
"We've already been working on improving it toâŠ" Lucius coughs, "your standards for the night shift."
"Good, good." Bruce leans back pleased, before straightening up suddenly.
When he follows Bruce's gaze, he spots Tim and Danny entering the cafe holding hands and discussing something. They look nervous, until Danny spots them and looks confused.
Which is fair, Lucius kind of just barged in after all.
Danny points over to them, and when Tim spots them he makes a thoughtful kind of face, but is somehow not actually surprised. Damn Bats.
They make their way over, and Lucius straightens himself up to nudge at Bruce.
"Play nice, Bruce." Lucius mutters under his breath.
"Speak for yourself." Bruce mutters back.
And then boys arrive, and it's showtime.
FEATURED ART:
Sam and Tuck's pfps: @phantomfen
Jazz's pfp: @smooth-jazz-radio
Dan's pfp: @belfry-ghost
Ellie's pfp: @hardcover-ship-ambassador
Dick's pfp: @finemeal
Babs' pfp: @agentnavi
Jason's pfp: @haleswallows
Dami's pfp: @lokiitama
Duke's pfp: @clockwaysarts (@paperpuffin on ao3!)
Steph and Cass' pfps: @miomorpheles
Kate's pfp: @psyscha
It isn't until the looming threat of a Family Brunch, almost 5 months into their charade of fake boyfriendship, that Danny realizes that he hasn't been pretending at all.
He's been conscious of the fake status of their relationship this entire time, don't get him wrong. And he's aware that he's been thoroughly just. Having fun with it.
But there's a fine line between being cheesy just to enjoy being close to his crush and being sincere in these acts of intimacy just to get what he can getâand looking back on it, that line was crossed so long ago he needs binoculars just to see the outline of it.
Danny has standing date nights with Tim. They have regular sleepovers (platonic, of courseâwith Danny in the guest room) where Danny uses Tim's shampoo and body wash, where Tim buys him clothes to keep in the penthouse because it's "what he would have done if it were real, Danny."
That's not even the end of it, not even the worst of it.
Babs helped Danny finish his presentation, 3 months ago, and Dick helped with the fucking presentation.
(Because yes, Danny was voluntold to help with presenting the damn thing three separate times to three different departments. And yes. It took that damn long to finish a powerpoint. Danny hates group projects with the passion of 3 Red Suns.)
He watches movies with Duke once a month, Damian comes to bother Danny at work during his intern hours, and somewhere along the way he finds out that Neighbor John is actually Jason Peters Todd (yes, the one that died all those many years ago but didn't actually). Apparently he has a huge crush on Jazz, which is something Danny doesn't want to think about. When did he even meet Jazz? How??
Lucius is inviting him to dinner and forcing Danny not to do overtime because apparently he's always wanted to do so but didn't want to abuse his position of power to encroach upon Danny's free will and this whole Tim thing has made it abundantly clear that if he didn't then the Waynes would "steal him away." Which Lucius has made very clear that that is inherently unfair, when Lucius found Danny first. Go fucking figure.
He, Cass, and Kate (or Aunt Kate, as she insists) go to the gym together all the god damn time, and don't even get him started on Bruce.
He doesn't know what Bruce wants from himâfor Danny to cry? Is that it? Does he want Danny to cry and be very sorry for taking his boy from him?
It's fake, so Tim's not exactly been defiled by him like Bruce clearly thinks he is, but Danny's also not exactly a Saint or anything so even if he could say something he has eyes. He wouldn't be able to, in good conscience, tell Bruce that Tim is safe from his lurid thoughts.
He's obviously safe because Danny won't do anything without Tim's consent but they've shared a couple of very chaste kisses and Danny's brain is constantly in the gutter about it.
He'd almost be ashamed if he didn't know with full certainty that anyone in his position would have broken by now. Because Tim is so, so hot, and sexy, and cute, and funny, and has actually been kind of opening up to him like a slow blooming flower and he might go certifiably insane about it. Arkham probably already has a cell with his name on it, it's kind that crazy.
All this to say, Danny's life has gotten much busier and less busier at the same time. His work-life balance is being forcibly held hostage by an array of Waynes with his calendar being full but not too full as his friend group grows exponentially but not overwhelmingly.
Because they are his friends, the Waynes. They're chaotic and nosy and loud and most of all, most importantly, they're good. They don't push but they push just enough to force Danny to the way he was beforeâthe way he was with Sam and Tucker and his ghost menagerie.
Jazz is less worried, and Danny is less lonely, but reallyâat what cost?
Because Danny has it all, and it's hitting him full force like the GAV being driven by his dad that he has it all and all of it is fake.
He's lying to all of the Waynes, to his own sister, and Tim said his family would be crazy but he didn't say his family would inexplicably weave themselves into the fabric that makes Danny's life.
He didn't say their kind of crazy would remind him of homeâa home that isn't his home anymore, a home that is less a home than Chicago ever was, or Gotham is now. A home he can never really go back to unless he wants to face what he and Jazz left behind. Which is terrible, because how would Tim know any of that?
It feels like every facet of Danny's life meshes with Tim's so perfectly and makes Danny think stupid things, things like Tim belonging with him and being in his life.
And the fact is, Danny isn't actually sure if Tim will keep him after this whole charade. Even as just a friend, he's not sure if Tim would want a walking, half-living reminder of the time he lied to his entire family.
Actually, being hit by the GAV might hurt lessâhe's healed from that kind of damage before.
"DannyâŠ" Sam scooches in close to where he's sitting on his sofa, head in his heads.
"You can say it." Danny mumbles, not acknowledging the hand rubbing up and down his back. This used to soothe him, it should soothe him now, but all it does is make him remember the temperature of Tim's hands and therefore reminds him how pathetic he kind of is.
"Say what?" Tucker asks, coming back from the kitchen with their second round of coffees and tea. He places them on the coffee table before them, before sitting on the other side of Danny close enough that he can siphon the heat off of his childhood friends.
"I told you so." Danny groans, leaning back and shrugging off Sam's hand. "You can say I told you so."
"So you are in deep." Sam says quietly. "You're being real about it."
There's a long silence that all three of them aren't sure how to break.
"I've always been real about it." Danny sighs, looking up at the ceiling. "It's just. Before it was kind of a pipe dream you know?"
Danny gets up, phasing through the sofa to pace behind it as his friends turn and lean over the back of the couch to watch him.
"I admit it, right, I had a huge crush on the guy before this whole endeavor." Danny gestures with his hands, mindlessly. "But I figure, have a little fun, he won't treat me bad and his family probably are nice."
"And he hasn't," Tucker hesitantly confirms, "And they are."
"He's been treating me sweetly." Danny slides his hands through his hair, stopping and gripping at the strands. "And his family are fun. Like Ember and Johnny and Kitty and, and Val and Wes kind of fun."
"Oh." Sam says, lowly, but Danny isn't hearing it.
"He'sâhe's so sweet to me, and I know it's an act, I can handle it, fine, whateverâ" Danny flaps a hand as if to banish the memories. "But his family has so thoroughly integrated themselves into my life and every week, every day they force me to step away from work and life and have fun and problem solve and fit in and it's likeâ"
"It's like when you were Phantom," Sam completes his scattered thoughts. "When you hadâŠ"
"When you had balance." Tucker picks up the thread. "When you were fulfilling your Obsession."
"âŠDid you ever figure out a word for that?" Sam cuts in, when Danny's silence confirms their line of thought.
"No." Danny huffs, giving up and phasing back through the couch to fall into the cushions again. "Ghost Writer suggested community and a bunch of other synonyms, but none of them really fit. Not like Ellie's Freedom and Vlad's Family does."
"Boiling down a complex thing into a single word is kind of impossible dude." Tucker shrugs.
"Tell that to the Observants." Danny scoffs. "Just when I thought I was going to be free from the horrors of Monarchy, they come pester me about Halfa Records and the necessity of leaving traces of history for future generations."
"How many Halfas were there before, anyway?" Tuck leans into Danny, the weight of him is comforting, especially so when Sam adds herself into it.
"Sixty seven, before Vlad." Danny rolls his eyes. "And all of them left a one word Obsession, so now I have to too."
"Sucks." Sam grumbles with Danny. "And Ghost Writer won't let you sneakily put in a footnote or something?"
"No, he's not cool like that." Danny sighs, relishing this quiet moment with his best friends in the entire world. "Mostly likely it's gonna be Community and I'll just have to suck it up."
It's not like it will kill him again, this vague mislabeling of his Obsession, but it rankles at him something fierce is all.
"Would it help if I said I was super impressed how you managed to freak without spilling the beans to Jazz earlier?" Tucker hopefully asks, which Danny snorts to.
Jazz had left half an hour ago to get back home, once Danny had confirmed he was alright. Sam and Tucker stayed behind because they knew Danny still had things to say that he couldn't have said in front of her.
"Well, that was easy, because I am freaking out about meeting Bruce in aâŠcasual capacity."
"But you're also freaking out about this." Sam blows out a forceful breath.
"But I'm also freaking out about this." Danny confirms.
"Well." Tucker makes a face. "Shit."
"It's fine." Danny forces a smile, nudging his friends off and leaning forward to sip at his coffee. It's lukewarm now, but it's fine. It's fine. "I'll justâŠenjoy it while it lasts, just like with Tim."
Neither of his friends say the obviousâthat Danny is clearly ignoring the crux of the problem. That they know Sunday Brunch with the Waynes is a big step, that they know he's accepted them into their circle however one-sided that may be with the added complication of a fake relationship, that more than the heartbreak with TimâŠ
The fundamental tilt of Danny's Obsession could ruin him the way it ruined Vlad.
Because Danny's Obsession isn't just belonging in a community, it's contributingâit's being needed and being wanted and wanting and needing back.
It's fulfilling a role for a larger purpose, the way Phantom did for Amity Park and the ghosts and even for his parents at one point.
"Maybe you can still be friends after?" Tucker tries to offer, but even he knows that's a fool's hope.
"Even if you can't," Sam glares at Tucker, before putting on a comforting smile towards Danny, "You'll have us. No matter what happensâyou'll have us."
Danny takes in the scent of his shitty instant coffee. Tucker always puts cinnamon on top, and it's a comforting aroma to his senses. The scent of the tea he keeps in his apartment specifically for Sam blends in really nicely, and there's still lingering traces of Jazz's perfume in the air, mixing and mixing and mixing in his brain.
"Yeah," Danny breathes out, because this more than anything is a fact of lifeâa truth that Danny can cling to: No matter what, he won't be alone. "Yeah, and that means the world to me."
His friends lean back in, and Danny tries not to melt away in the warmth of their love.
===
"Tim, go to bed." Danny drawls, plucking the tablet away from the other man and flopping next to him on the couch.
His fake boyfriend hasn't slept in a couple days, Danny is sure. Even without the vague comments over the table the Waynes threw out, Danny can see it in Tim's mannerisms.
It might be the stress of having his fake boyfriend over for a Family Sunday Brunch on top of the lack of sleepâbecause that's something Danny has learned about Tim over these past few months: the man does not sleep.
On top of that he's busy. With WE, with his family, with his other friends and now with Danny in the mix?
Danny isn't sure how Tim would survive if this relationship were real. At least now Tim can multitask during their "at home dates" and relax or work or whatever Tim needs that day.
Not that Danny minds those things, seeing as he also takes those times to do his own work and hobbies. He even has a little toolbox kit at the Penthouse now, a little miniature version of his workshop in his apartment.
"Just one minute." Tim grabs the tablet back, immediately tapping away again.
They're in one of the expansive living rooms at the Wayne Manor, which was exactly as ominous and large as he expected it to be. Thankfully, due to his proximity to Sam and the scant times with Vlad he didn't balk at it like a total loser.
Sunday Brunch was successful, and led to a very high stress game of tag that spanned the entire second floor of the Manor. He did not know that Dick Grayson could be so bendy.
Also, Duke is a lot more cutthroat than he expected him to be. (Damian on the other hand was exactly as cutthroat as he expected him to be).
It was also a veryâŠinteresting experience hanging out with Neighbor John as Jason Todd. Jason is more brusque with his family, but no less obsessed with his bakery side hustle. He's not surprised that Jason would adopt a pseudonym, if he were in his position he would also do that to avoid the press. Still, it was fun getting to know his neighbor beyond baked goods and the occasional recipe exchange.
Though for some reason he kept trying to ask Danny aboutâŠhe's still not sure. Cargo? Shipments? He's never spoken to Neighbor John about anything remotely related to the Logistics field, so it ended with a lot of confusion and a determined exchange of pie recipes.
And now it is seven in the evening and most of the Wayne Brood has either left the premises to go back to their own homes or retired to their rooms upstairs.
"Tim," Danny leans forward to try and make eye contact with his fake boyfriend, "How long have you been awake?"
"It doesn't matter." Tim waves Danny off, still focusing on his tablet.
After the game of tag, Tim had mentally checked outâprobably exhausted both physically and mentally at that point, and had sat quietly next to Danny during the entirety of dinner. His family had seemed to accept this as the norm, so Danny took it upon himself to socialize on his behalf, telling stories about the shenanigans he and his best friends were up to in high school and college years. Even apart, they had managed to get up to a significant amount of mischief.
It was also fun to hear about Tim's younger years, which Tim had tried really hard to stop during Brunch. As if through some kind of agreement, the Tim stories of dinner time were all tame and mostly focused on the other members interacting with Tim as a young kid than anything. It resulted in some pretty funny stories, like how bad of a babysitter team Dick and Babs were and what Bruce got up to when he was their age.
Needless to say, there were a lot of dinosaur jokes and mentions of meteor showers.
And so here they are, finally alone after Tim had dipped to work on his tablet and Dick had quietly wished Danny a good luck as he nodded towards where his brother had left. It was as much of a cue as Danny could expect, so he followed through like a good fake boyfriend.
"It kind of matters." Danny argues, going so far as to try and stick his head between Tim and the tablet. "To me, at least."
Tim pushes Danny away with a finger to his head. "Danny. I will sleep after I get this done."
"It's bedtime though," Danny whines, slumping down the couch and hoping his dramatics will get Tim to at least smile. "Good kids sleep at reasonable hours!"
"I am not a child." Tim hisses, which causes Danny to jump.
He sits back up and raises his hands up in surrender, slowly. Because clearly this is a sore spot. "I know that."
Tim's breathing is a little harsh, visibly shaken. He closes his eyes, brows scrunched. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't haveâ"
"No, it's okay." Danny assures, putting his hands down and watching Tim carefully. Something about this has put Tim off kilter, and Danny's not sure what it is.
"No, it's not." Tim forcefully breathes out. "You don't deserve that. You don't have to caâ"
Tim cuts himself off, biting his lips as if to physical stop the words. You don't have to care, Tim doesn't say, and that more than anything puts Danny in a complicated situation.
He could accept Tim's words. He could stop it here, and they could move on.
But then everything would change. It will change regardless, because up until now it's been daisies and rainbows and prank wars and strangely acrobatic bouts of sibling warfare. But if Danny accepts Tim's out then that's itâit makes their entire facade something they have to placate each other for.
It makes them well and truly fake. It would make it impossible for Danny to keep Tim, after this is all said and done.
And Danny still wants Tim in his life. He wants the Waynes in his life, even if only as "Tim's ex." However slim of a chance it is, he still wants to try.
So Danny takes a deep breath. "I think I deserve to care."
Tim shuts his eyes again, as if it pains him.
"And I think," Danny carefully says, moving a little closer and tugging on Tim's sleeve, "you deserve to be cared for, right now."
There's a loaded silence, the sound of a bullet sliding into the barrel mimicking the ticking of a grandfather clock somewhere in the Manor. Click, click, click, bullet after bullet.
"Unless," Danny tries again, as the barrel slowly fills, "you want toâŠeat pineapples instead."
And then suddenly, the click of the safety.
Tim crumples. Danny takes the tablet and opens his arms, Tim falling in like puzzle piece.
"I'm allergic to pineapples." Tim mumbles into Danny's chest, hands clutching at the back of Danny's shirt.
"Then myrrh?" Danny offers, running a hand up and down Tim's back as he considers for a moment, "Is, uh, myrrh supposed to be lit? OrâŠis it a tea?"
Tim chuckles, wet-sounding even as the rumbles of it travel against Danny's heart. "Both. It's a resin, or it can be turned into an oil. It depends on what you want to use it for."
"Of course you would know." Danny huffs a laugh, adjusting Tim until he's more snug against him, where Danny can lay his cheek against the top of his head. "Though I notice you didn't exactly answer."
"No, Danny." Tim laughs helplessly. "I do not want pineapples or myrrh."
"Good, good." Danny relaxes. "I justâI care about you Tim. Regardless ofâŠthe other stuff. Even if thisâŠdoesn't work out, I want you to be in my life for a long time."
Tim stiffens up a moment, which makes Danny think he did something wrongâor worse, that Tim doesn't want them to stay friends after all. But it's out there now, and Danny can't do anything but hold his breath.
"I'dâŠlike that too." Tim mumbles, squeezing Danny tighter and giving such relief to Danny that he almost melts from it.
The clearing of a throat knocks them both back to Earth, the two of them separating hastily like they'd been caught with their hands down each other's pants, and not just hugging tightly.
Danny tries to ban the imagery away from his mind as he meets the eyes of Alfred, the Butler cum Grandfather, who has a raised eyebrow at them.
âŠThat was very poor choicing in words, and Danny regrets everything about this entire evening.
"A-Alfie!" Tim stutters, and despite how exhausted his body must be it still manages to direct all blood flow to crawl up Tim's neck. "S-sorry, uhm."
"May I suggest you both retire to your room tonight, Master Tim?" Alfred, nonplussed, offers. Danny gets the distinct feeling he is mocking them. "I trust Master Danny will not be needing the guest room made up?"
Danny can feel his ears heat up at that, and when he glances at Timâyep, that blush has now crawled all the way up to his lovely little face. Fuck. Alfred is definitely messing with them.
Tim coughs, blush crawling up to his ears now. "No, Alfred, that'sâthat's quite alright, thanks."
"Very well." Alfred nods, doing an elegant about turn before pausing for a moment. "Might I say, Master Tim, how glad I am to see someone able to so deftlyâŠcare for you?"
Tim, who apparently defies the impossible, gets even redder. Danny, somehow proud beyond reason, musters up the courage to hold Tim's hand and squeeze it in support.
Tim squeezes back, and Danny might burst. Even if it's all fake, he'll have this.
"Good night, Master Tim, Master Danny." Alfred continues forward, but Danny can see a little smile peeking out.
"Bed?" Danny offers after a long moment, hopeful and trying not to sound it. He lowers his voice as he leans in close, as if to whisper sweet nothings, "Promise, you're safe with me."
Tim shivers, and Danny dares not hope forâŠfor mutual feelings, but he can at least hope for this, right? To be safe enough for Tim to have just this? To let Tim know he cares?
"âŠOk." Tim whispers back, lifting his head as their temples meet in a slow slideâa nuzzle, barely half of one. "You're safe with me too."
And if Tim, in his sleep, rolls until he's safely in Danny's arms that night, if Danny stays awake for as long as possible to savor the moment, well.
That's between themâanother little secret for them to keep.
===
The following Monday morning leaves Danny in a State.
He's riding a high of last night's endeavorâof surviving their first fight, of getting to feel Tim in his arms for the first time, of waking up with Tim in his arms.
Still, euphoric as it was it left Danny with little to no sleepâinstead of a ghost, he's a zombie for the day.
He slugs through his morning with the power of sheer will and Lucius' concerned gaze. The man has been more overt in his care for Danny, and Danny's still not really sure what to think about it. He'd think he had a fire core, with the way the warmth seeps into his chest about it.
(He adamantly does not think about the thought that Lucius is what he wanted his parents to be. He adamantly does not think about the thought that Bruce is what he wanted his parents to be, because this thing is fake and therefore not even possible.)
It's in the afternoon when things start to change.
Snacks start to appear at his desk, somehow when he's not looking. This is impressive, since Danny hardly leaves his desk. But lo and behold, there's a beef jerky stick in the brand he usually gets. A handful of those strawberry candies with the jelly inside, the kind they used to give at the dentist when he was younger, shows up in one of his drawers.
When Danny is flagging, closing his eyes for just a moment, he gets jolted with the scent of a very familiar Irish coffee sitting innocently by his elbow.
Danny had asked his coworkers about it, but either they're in on it or the mysterious benefactor is the Invisible Man.
But it's thanks to these boons that Danny survives the rest of the day (and, not in small part, because Lucius heartlessly kicks him out early and tells him to go to sleep).
He starts to get a clue when he exits WE to head home and sees Tim leaning up against a sleek black car, casual as can be, in a peacoat and that giant red scarf Danny loves so much.
"Hey, babe." Danny can't help the smile on his face, even tired as he is. "Did I miss a text?"
Danny doesn't think so, but he wouldn't put it past himself with how tired he was today.
"No, I thought I'd just surprise you." Tim softly says as Danny comes to a stop before him. He glances at the big doors to WE, before going on his tippy toes as he pulls Danny down by his jacket to give him a gentle, lingering kiss on the cheek. "Is that okay? Do youâŠwant pineapples orâŠ"
"Noâno, I. I'm not hungry. It's more than okay." Danny says, because he'll agree to anything Tim says if he gives him kisses like that, even if he's dead on his feet.
Tim looks into his eyes, searching for something, but seems to deem his answer good enough. He's ushered into the passenger seat and whisked away.
Danny breathes in slow, taking in the scent of Tim's personal car. He's only been in this car a handful of times, on account of how most of their dates are performative in nature and therefore should have some kind of audience as much as possible.
The amount of times one of the Waynes "crashed their dates" and they had to pretend to, in some convoluted way, pretend to not be mad about their alone time being encroached upon is frankly hilarious and the epitome of comedy.
But in the here and now, in Tim's car, it's nice, relaxing. Tim doesn't have any music on, which should feel oppressive, but all it does is give Danny ample space to just exist. To breathe and listen to Tim breathe, to feel isolated into himself but not be alone.
He's almost lulled into a sleep when the car comes to a stop, Tim telling Danny they've arrived sotto voce.
It takes all of Danny to unbuckle himself, and by the time he does Tim already has his door open with a hand stretched out to help him.
Danny, now in a sort of trance, lets himself be guided to the elevators and follows the gentle pull of Tim through the doorways until they're in the foyer of the penthouse.
He belatedly realizes he hasn't really said a thing since he got in the car and tries to start, but Tim shushes him and helps him out of his jacket and shoes in quick order.
Danny blinks, and suddenly he's sitting on his bed, the bedside lamp on and in pajamas. He vaguely remembers Tim leaving while he was changing, and before his addled thoughts can go beyond is he coming back, the door opens again to Tim with a cup of hot tea.
Tim sets the mug on a coaster on the nightstand, looking like he's leaving and Danny does something stupid.
Danny reaches up and snags Tim's sleeve. "Stay?"
It's a loaded question, sleepy as it is. Before last night, Tim and Danny firmly slept in different beds at the penthouse. Danny's become more comfortable here now, but it's still Tim's space. They've been together in the evenings before, watched documentaries and movies and read together in silence in the living room, but their rooms have been pointedly personal areas.
Tim, having frozen, knows this. Danny knows he knows this. Danny almost lets go, almost says sorry in the silence, probably would have already done all of that by now if he weren't so slow.
But Tim breathes out, and its like the air isn't compacted anymore.
"Give me a moment?" Tim whispers, as if he doesn't want to break Danny. "I'll be right back."
Danny lets go and watches as Tim shuffles outside, leaving the door open.
Danny takes his own breath, mind clouded as he settles himself on the inside of the bed, watching the steam of the tea rise and dissipate.
It feels like an eternity when Tim finally comes back, in his own pajamas and with his phone, tablet, and their respective chargers in hand.
He gets in the bed next to Danny, a bit of a tight fit with Danny's bulk but still more than enough room to provide space if necessary, and settles with all the chargers plugged in and his phone charging on the stand. He settles himself into the bed sitting up against the headboard, tablet on his lap, fluffing pillows until he's satisfied.
Danny watches all this happen on his side, tucked under the covers. He wants to shift his legs so that there is a point of contact between them, but doesn't dare. He's already pushed a lot tonight.
Tim fiddles with his tablet, adjusting the brightness so it's not blaringly white and bright, and takes a deep breath.
And, as if he's reading Danny's mind or on the same page or simply just the most perfect man alive, extends his hand for Danny to hold.
Danny latches onto it like a lifeline.
"Good night, Danny." Tim's voice is low, lilting. Hesitant.
"Good night, Tim." Danny whispers back, desperate and wired and unbearably exhausted.
Tim uses his other hand to turn off the light, and it's then that Danny realizes he's past the point of no return.
Last night, he didn't really have any hope. Not in the way that Danny fully wanted, at least.
Because last night did give him something, a sort of assurance that at the very least, Tim trusted him to an extentâthat there is a very real possibility they could at least be cordial and maybe even friends after all this.
But it doesn't change that fact that Danny wouldn't have what he wanted. That Danny, with Tim in his arms and darkness blanketing them, didn't think anything would change in the way he wanted.
He didn't think, no matter how close they've gotten, that Tim would entertain the idea of them. A them that isn't fake, a them that isn't performative, a them that is real and romantic in nature.
He thought having Tim's trust, being close to him would be enough. That he could weather the heartbreak even if it shattered him. That perhaps Tim's family would see him every now and then, the way Steph seems to hang around, or the way Tim still talks to Bernard on occasion.
That his heartbreak and loneliness could maybe still be something, even if only a sliver of what he actually wants.
But Danny looks up at the ceiling of the guest room in Tim's penthouse, and realizes it's all bullshit.
Because it's covered in glow in the dark starsâbecause Tim put up glow in the dark stars all over the ceiling of what is effectively Danny's room in Tim's Penthouse. Because Danny had a bad day with no discernible reason other than fatigue, and Tim decided to leave him snacks and his favorite coffee and put glow in the dark stars on the ceiling for Danny. Tim squeezes his hand, as if he's unsure if Danny likes it or not.
And Danny loves it, is the problem. Danny loves it a lot.
He's been trying to convince himself that things will be okay. When he first got into this, he tried to convince himself it would be fun, that he would have a blast just being with his crush. And then again, when he started texting Tim and found his proper way of texting unbearably cute and annoying, that they could be friends and Danny would be fine with that.
And then again when he freaked out about meeting Bruce with Sam and Tucker and Jazzâhe fought tooth and nail to convince them it would be okay, that he would be okay.
And most damning of all last night, with Tim in his arms, he tried to convince himself that this would be enough.
But it's not. It's not enough, because he loves Tim and all that comes with him and it might fucking ruin him.
It might have already ruined him.
"Thank you," Danny breathes out, because he isn't sure he can say anything else without ruining this moment. He pulls Tim's hand to his lips, not quite a kiss but more of a suggestion of one.
Tim squeezes his hand, tight, but his voice is hesitant. "Still not hungry?" Is this okay?
Danny closes his eyes because he's overwhelmed, and maybe heartbroken, and maybe not. He wants to say of course it's okay but settles on keeping Tim's hand in his, pressing it against his cheek, forcing himself to breathe out. "Not even a little bit."
After a long moment Tim starts to work on his tablet, the taps hesitant at first but slowly gaining traction.
Danny thoughts are whirling, even as he body starts to shut down into sleep.
Next month is the wedding, and the tentative end date to this entire charade.
They're supposed to stage some kind of break up some time after the event, so as not to overshadow the couple's special day. It's nebulous at best, and he'd thought he'd take advantage of that, but it isn't enough for Danny anymore.
Danny drifts into sleep with only one thought in mind:
After the wedding, he'll ask Tim. He'll ask him if they could extendâif they could be real.
He's already lost, after all, so why not risk it all?
===
The wedding, as one might expect, aims to kill Danny over and over and over again.
The first attempt is when Tim comes to pick him up in that stupidly attractive peacoat and equally stupidly cute giant red scarf.
The second attempt is when Tim opens the door to the bathroom of their hotel room and steps out looking like a God in a three piece suit that all the groomsmen are wearing. That shade of blue really brings out his eyes, makes him look extremely kissable. Danny doesn't, of course, but it's a near thing.
The third attempt is when the Wayne kids all loiter around the venue to muck around, Danny dancing with Tim in a horrible attempt at a waltzâeventually giving up and just swinging each other around like they're kids and not full grown adults.
The fourth attempt is the giggle Tim gives him when he dips him.
The fifth attempt is when Danny watches Tim walk down the aisle with his paired bridesmaid, a stunning black woman with her natural hair teased into heart shaped space buns. The smile Tim gives him as he walks past nearly does him in, but he prevailsâjust barely.
The sixth attempt is when they lock eyes across the room, as Dick says his vows.
The seventh is the rueful look he gets when Kori says her vows, something about how handsome her groom is and tricks they learned working together.
The eighth attempt is when an explosion punches a hole into the roof of the venue, and a woman with long black hair and a concerningly skin tight metal looking outfit underneath a sort of black bodysuit and knee high black boots floats above them with a saucy little smirk.
"My, my." The woman really is very good at projecting her voice, "Quite the party, and I don't get an invite?"
"Where would I send the invite to?" Kori sneers, "You have been missing for a long time, sâBlackfire."
"Excuses, Excuses," The woman sighs, hands glowing an eerie blackâsimilar to Phantom's ectocharges. "Let's get this party really started, shall we?"
Pandemonium breaks out then, as everyone is ushered out in a panic. The woman, Blackfire if Kori is to be believed, is laughing haughtily and almost cruelly as she starts blasting their surroundings. The Waynes all scatter, and the crowd moves like a tidal wave.
There is a lot of smoke and screaming and flashing cameras. Batman arrives in a flurry and bright blue glowing on his chest, which isn't a color Danny would expectâthen again, he didn't really expect to see Batman flying either.
Danny struggles, unsure what to do. He can't turn into Phantom, crammed as close as he is in the crowd being yanked this way and that.
A piece of the roof caves in, Blackfire's laughter bleeding through the chaos, and Batman swoops in to grab it.
"Batwing!" Someone near his ear screams, which explains the different skin color, but doesn't give him any relief like it does to the people around him.
He can't phase through the crowd, he can't see any of the Waynes, and worst of all he can't see Tim.
Is he okay? He was standing next to Dick when Blackfire came in and Danny can't bear to thinkâ
He's spat out of the crowd when they get through the large doors of the venue, practically stumbling off as he almost trips his way through a side hallway. He hadn't gotten to explore the venue much, too preoccupied with how pretty Tim looked and how nice everything was and how fucking hard and scary it will be to confess to his hopefully-soon-to-be real boyfriend after all this is over, but he saw side doors in the main room, so surely there must be a way in that way.
It's even more important to him that they get through this, because he will tell Tim. He won't accept any other outcome.
He's rushing off on a split hallway, curling around a corner to see Dick rushing out of the venue.
He's about to call out when another man beats him to it, slipping out of the smoke to get behind Dick to wrap a bulky arm around his neck, the other hand bracing against the back of Dick's head to keep him in a chokehold.
Danny doesn't think, he goes invisible.
"Losing your touch, little bird." The man croons, and it makes Danny feel slimey as he rushes through to help somehow without being exposed for his powers.
"Fuck you, Slade." Dick growls. Before Danny can do anything to help, Dick already has his legs swung up and is flipping out of the lock in some strange twist, beginning to fight with the man with alarming force.
Damn, he knew Dick was bendy but this? The sight of Dick, heartwarming and friendly and really actually kind of dorky, fighting with such brutality brings Danny up short. He's once again at a crossroads because the back of his mind keeps screaming for Tim, but he can't just leave.
But once again the decision is taken away from him as two bodies slam through the door, just narrowly dodging Dick and this Slade character's brawl and Danny himself, standing stupidly at a loss.
"Star!" Dick grunts, when Slade takes the opportunity to get a mean right hook in to his gut.
In the rubble, two women are growling and hissing like cats, hands in hands and eyes glowing unnatural colors.
The woman on top is Blackfire, black hair and blazing purple eyes and fists fizzing against her opponent's hands.
The woman on her back is familiar, but it takes him a moment to recognize her. Her hands and eyes glow a familiar green, less goopy like ectoplasm but more plasma adjacent. She's wearing the tattered remains of Kori's wedding dress, but the details are all different. Her skin is more orange and hair more flaming redâbut he swears he knows her. A leg kicks out, and there's a weird ankle lock looking device on it, spitting out the occasional electric sparkâthe woman's skin color and eyes flicking back to Kori's countenance like a glitch.
They struggle a moment before it all clicks and Danny recognizes her. StarâStarfire, Tamaranean Princess and former member of the Teen fucking Titans, manages to get her leg folded and her foot planted in Blackfire's stomache to swiftly fucking canon the rogue back into the room.
"Go!" Dick grunts, still struggling with Slade, "I'll be fine, just go!"
Starfire doesn't hesitate, flying back in as an animalistic screech echoes inside and a black flamed bolt whizzes through. Danny takes it as his cue, confused and still so very panicked, to run after her into the smoke and rubble.
Inside, the venue's a fucking mess. What was once a beautiful tableau filled with an abundance of flowers and what surely must have been millions of expensive fucking decor is now reduced to ashes and ruins. Furniture has been flipped up, curtains singed, and there's still a bottleneck near the main entrance where people are trying desperately to get out and are being waylaid by stray rubble.
He can spot Waynes everywhereâDuke grabbing a boy from under what must be the only upright table on the side and rushing out with him, Kate hefting a man twice her size through the other side hallway with Steph and Cass ushering a group of woman just behind her, even Damian and his friend Jon helping by trying to maintain the crowded main exit with Bruce and Babs.
But he can't fucking find Tim. Above them, Starfire and Blackfire are fighting in a light show, slightly obscured by smoke and mostly only trackable via the purple and green lights. A stray blast escapes from the dust cloud above, and it's like a moment from the moviesâthe green catches his eye and leads him straight to Tim. His suit is dirty and ripped and covered in mysterious dirt from somewhere, and still, he's handsome and everything Danny's ever wanted and has a little girl in his arms.
Danny should not be thinking about how fucking good he looks, like some kind of fuckingâhero or male lead or, or maybe the love of Danny's life and possibly the father of his future children. They're both male, but Danny could figure something out, he's sure.
More blasts dive through the air this way and that, Tim hurriedly passing the little girl off to someone through the doorway just before he slams it closed as another blast speeds through, debris now blocking part of the door Tim was just standing by.
Panicked, Danny tumbles through the venue as he tries to track Tim, going visible again behind a pillar that stands in the corner hidden from even the smoke and dust. Tim's now in the opposite corner after probably dodged rubble and energy blasts, and Danny screams for him just as Dick cuts through, still fighting that Slade guy with terrifying rage.
It stops Danny short, and he dodges around just as Blackfire gets blasted down towards them and straight into the two men. Dick does a dizzying amount of backflips to get some space between them, leaving Slade as the main target. Danny has half a mind to wonder if Starfire did that on purpose, and a small percentile to conjure up images of Nightwing doing those exact fucking flips.
Slade, however, catches her cleanly. He spins into a roundhouse kick with her in his arms and Blackfire takes the opportunity to blast at Dick. Danny shoves his way through to tackle the man out of the way, thankfully, and the roll into each other and slam into a nearby wall.
"I do love a man who knows what he's doing." Blackfire practically purrs from where she is held, pretty as can be even covered in dust and grime, in Slade's arms.
"A woman who doesn't miss a chance," Slade reflects back, voice smooth as butter, "is my kind of woman."
It's the kind of banter that would make him gag in Amity, that or laugh. It's giving Danny whiplash.
He's been in middle of battles before, but that was as Phantom and even then it's been fucking years. Distantly, he recognizes that this panic, this helplessness and confusion, might be his ghost senses trying to get him to transform, to protect his Obsession regardless of the cost.
Danny, knowing full well that he can't do that without serious consequences, beats it down with the relentlessness of a man in fucking Love and is Scared about it.
A green blast shoots between them, causing Blackfire to fly up with a wink and an air kiss as she ruthlessly leaves Slade to deal with it. The man simply huffs, not exactly put out, and somehow manages to dodge it.
Danny, meanwhile, ducks the rubble the blast throws his way and heads straight to Tim as best he can.
The rest of the Waynes have disappeared, and the crowd has almost cleared the venue. When Tim spots him, his face is hard and determined and worried.
It's almost a straight shot, with Tim and Danny as point A and point B, trying to meet in the middle like some kind of dramatic action shot scene where the protagonists clutch at each other desperately to declare their love at each other.
The ninth attempt is the Universe reminding Danny that this whole thing is a fucking farce, that what Danny and Tim have is built upon lies and truths masquerading as lies and a stupid fucking Obsession that is integral to Danny's DNA.
Blackfire kicks heavily into Starfire, causing the hero to slam into the roof above them. A large chunk of debris starts to fall down on where Danny is about to end up. The momentum Danny has makes it hard for him to stop, and Tim is heading right toward him.
On instinct, Danny catches him in his arms and Tim twists. They turn, as if this were just an extension of their dance from before and not in the middle of a god damn rogue attack.
Except this is familiarâthis is something he knows. His mind takes a moment to catch up, but his body remembers.
Evidently, so does Tim's.
Because Danny pulls out a lipstick laser and cuts the bit of debris falling down at them, and Tim wide steps out and spins them clear. He hooks an arm around Danny's neck, falling back and bringing them both down to dodge a stray chair being through at them.
Danny catches them on his hands, staring wide eyed down at his fake boyfriend who he's pretty sure he's thoroughly in love with hanging off him and staring straight back up at him, and his mind finally catches up.
Because he's done this before, years ago. He's danced this dance at another attack, with another personâwith a hero who has a secret identity.
"Red Robin." Danny breathes, and Tim's expression crumbles.
Around them, chaos is still whirling. Batman has arrived, and Danny's fast moving thoughts whisper to him that Bruce probably ducked out to change the moment the commotion started.
He vaguely wonders if the rest of the family has their suits stashed somewhere on the venue, because the dots are connecting and Danny can't stop it.
Starfire, a known associate of Nightwingâbendy and ruthless and a beacon of hope. Signal, who asked him questions all those months ago with Mr. Freeze. He hasn't met the others in their suits but it's easy to see now. It's easy to understandâbecause once you know one, you know them all.
But the most important thing is Tim laying beneath him looking like the world has come crashing down.
"âŠPhantom." Tim whispers back, as if compelled to despite the reluctanceâas if in pure reflex.
And suddenly the world stops. Tim knows. Judging by the guilty grimace he's known. For how long? What does this mean? Why does he look like that? LikeâŠlike this is the worst possible outcomeâ
But Danny can't get his thoughts in line fast enough, and before he knows it Tim is rolling them until he can grab Danny by the bicep and dragging him towards one of the hallways.
"We'll talk later. Rogue attacks first." Tim gruffly does not look at Danny, focusing forward and in the here and now.
Danny can't do anything but do as he's bid. He does that a lot with Tim.
It's a blur after that, the wedding in near shambles until the Bats all sort it out.
Blackfire has disappeared with an air kiss and some more collateral damage, and Slade has equally disappeared in a silent slip. It's all very anticlimactic and unsatisfying in his opinion, but it's not his territory so he will stay in his lane.
Quicker than Danny can really manage to comprehend, the wedding is back on. Dick and Kori do a dramatic reunion, and by the power vested in Bruce they get married in the midst of wreckage and tatters.
Somehow, Danny has found himself beside Tim again, clapping and cheering.
In the euphoria, despite the confusion and uncertainty, Danny turns to Tim toâŠto do something. To kiss him, maybe confess his love like he planned to not three hours earlier.
Except when he does, Tim is no longer next to him.
Looking around, nobody seems to have noticedâthe tenth attempt on Danny's life, the successful one, is this:
Danny, surrounded by family that isn't his own and friends he's made on false premises, standing there bereft.
Tim meets Phantom years before he meets Danny Nightingale.
Though, to be more precise, it isn't actually Tim who meets him.
He actually isn't supposed to be here, in some random town in Pennsylvania of all places.
It's just that Tim has been feeling a little stifled. Or maybe it's more accurate to say that Tim is restless.
Okay, Tim will at least be honest with himself:
Tim is bored.
Tim is also, disgustingly, lonely.
Sue him, it still stings that he and Bernard hadn't worked out. It's been something like two months and it still hurts, quite a lot even, despite not being a stranger to broken hearts.
See for example: Steph, and Jason, and even Dick and Bruce.
(Though Bernard and Steph's situations differ entirely from the way the rest of them have broken his heart. When they say never meet your heroes, they never really warn you what to do when they try to kill you. Or when they eventually take you in and put you through harsh training and even harsher treatment outside of training until they realize they maybe shouldn't do that. It's something they're working on.)
The problem with being self aware with no actual motivation to fix anything means that Tim goes slightly unhinged just to stave off the worst of it.
So here Tim is, a couple hundred miles away from home simply because he's bored and lonely.
This is probably what his family means when they say he has issues. (Like he said, they're working on it.)
Either way, this trip is a nice birthday gift to himself. He couldn't do it on his actual birthday of course, his family and friends would never allow it, but it's close enough that Tim will let it to count.
He's heard about a certain phenomena in this town where ghosts walk among the Living and stir up trouble, and he's unsure whether or not it's something that needs to be dealt with.
There is already a hero on site and according to Constantine the portal that's been ripped open here is nothing to be too concerned about.
Simply put: the portal will close eventually, though it is unsure whether it would be tomorrow or 50 years from now.
In the event it's the latter, Tim has decided to check it out. He's a young college student named Daisy today, a little older than he actually is, meant to be a freshly minted adult taking her first trip to satisfy her little horror-loving hobby.
Daisy has had a blast, walking around as a tourist and taking pictures on her first Big Girl trip.
She's made a couple of friends amongst the residents, learning about Fenton tech and the questionably popular ghost vigilante Phantom. (It doesn't seem like the town is set on whether Phantom is a Menace or a HeroâTim is getting big Spiderman vibes.)
A local named Star was particularly helpful, being a tour guide during summer break from college.
Apparently, most graduates of Casper High come back for the summer, as most of them love their little town dearly. Tim has noted a trend where even if the former Amity Parkians are thoroughly enjoying their lives in their respective cities, many come back often for holidays.
Daisy, being bold and completely obsessed with the idea of meeting a ghost, has made her way to the Observatory on the third day of her trip.
It's highly recommended as one of the more benign spots to witness a Ghost Happening (as they call it here) on account of it being Phantom's Haunt, who is known to be tolerant of humans in the area.
Daisy is making her way through the abandoned Observatory, carefully navigating the dusty halls and rooms, when a loud metallic groaning echoes through the halls.
She was told that the Observatory is still up to code having only been abandoned some five years ago, so there shouldn't be any danger of collapse, but still. The noise is loud enough to warrant Tim internally cursing himself for being leisurely about his research.
A loud cackling startles Daisy, who jumps and tries to run away from the sound towards the outside, only to trip and tumble when a shadowed hand shoots out to grab her ankle.
Before she can do more than brace herself for the fall, she's caught and swept away in a rather cold embrace that only gets colder in the wind that swirls around them. She opens her gaze to Lazarus green eyes, squinted in concentration, and white glowing hair whipping around in the wind.
"Pardon me, Miss!" Her apparent savior apologetically grins, boyish and charming, "I'd say Welcome to my Haunt, but I really wasn't expecting so many visitors today. Or at all, actually!"
Daisy, being an excitable girl, squeals. "You're Phantom!"
"And you've picked a wrong time to be here!" Phantom twirls them around, dodging green tinted objects being thrown about in swirling gusts of wind. The sudden vertigo makes Daisy momentarily wish Tim didn't put "prone to motion sickness" in her profile.
Then again Phantom doesn't need to know that.
But Tim, and subsequently Daisy, is nothing if not thorough, so. She covers her mouth and tries not to 'throw up'.
Suddenly the wind around them stops, and the G Force alone makes Daisy light headed. She's set down gently, just beside the Observatory signage outside. It's a big rock wall looking sign and very sturdy for her to lean against for support as she attempts to get a grip on herself.
By the time she feigns 'getting herself together', Phantom has already captured the wayward ghost in some sort of cylindrical device that resembles a soup thermos and is making his way over to where she breathes to get the 'nausea' to subside.
"Sorry for the rough ride." Phantom hovers, turning his ghostly tail into two legs and crouching down to feel her forehead. His hand is gentle and cold, but not so cold as to feel unpleasant. "Are you alright Miss?"
Quick, efficient, and bedside manner gets a passing grade. Looks like Tim's work here is done.
"Oh, yes!" Daisy beams, excited. "That was everything I could ask for! Would you mind signing something for me?"
"I'm afraid most contracts expire when the signee is uh, expired themselves, Miss�" Phantom jokes, exuding Midwest Charm like the Kents do. Pennsylvania barely counts as Midwest, but with such an exemplary example in front of him it's hard for Tim to argue otherwise.
"Daisy." She introduces herself, giggling. "And I meant would you be willing to give me an autograph!"
"Oh!" Phantom starts patting himself down, before sticking his hand into his chest to pull out a sharpie as he sheepishly grins. "As long as I don't see it on Ebay!"
Daisy giggles again, comforted by a job well done and a town well managed.
Phantom, chivalrous as can be, offers a so-called Ghost Blob to pet, before sending her off safely at her hotel.
Tim gives him an A in heroing, if only because Damian would be extremely jealous of the experience with the little blob, and calls it a job well done.
===
Over a year later, Tim receives word that the portal in Amity Park has been closed. Quietly, and with very little notice.
He'd been keeping Amity Park on the periphery of his life, occasionally checking in the way he does with his past casesâjust in case. He does this regularly with most of them, a sort of ritual included in his weekly life in the event something went wrong again or when Red Robin needed a pick me up after a particularly bad patrol or unsuccessful case. Reminders of success, or in this instance a good hero staying that way, were always a good balm to his nerves.
It's in a Bat's nature to always doubt the good things, just as it is in their nature to never take the good things for granted because they can be so easily ripped away. A dichotomy, of sorts.
So when he hears about the portal closing, he looks into it a little more deeplyâtries to gauge if this will cause issues.
The Drs Fenton very publicly and loudly do not like this new development, but Phantom himself seems particularly happy about this turn of events.
That week, the ghost hero makes his rounds to gather up any stray ghosts still mingling about, dead set on cleaning house. The question of whether Phantom has a way to usher ghosts to the other side passively crosses his mind, but ultimately decides it a non-issue.
By day five, Phantom and his little (and occasionally not so little) dog Cujo are apparently the only ones left to go. The town throws a festival in commemoration, Phantom and Cujo can be seen weaving through the crowds saying their goodbyes.
By day six, word on the street is that Phantom has gone in peace. Whether through a portal of his own making (less disruptive than a man-made one, logically) or by way of ascencion, it's never made clear.
By day seven, Tim discovers something passably interesting.
A year and four months after Daisy's visit to Amity Park, Tim realizes that Phantom is Daniel Fenton.
It's an accident, really, but ultimately bears no real importanceâeither he's a meta masquerading as a ghost or some other genetic mishap, and neither really impacts Daniel's retirement.
Two months and six days after that, the Fenton siblings change quickly their last names.
Jasmine Nightingale, just on the cusp of graduating Chicago University with her undegrad, applies to be her brother's guardian despite Daniel already being 21 years old.
Daniel Nightingale, in the next semester, quietly transfers from Amity Park Community College to Chicago U to join his sister with very little issue despite it being the middle of the academic year.
Tim is happy for him, happy that Phantom has chosen retirement. It's rare to see that in his field of work, not unless it's forced.
It's a nice change, it's a success that Tim can look back on when the going gets roughâthat people have fought the good fight, and have come out the other end better for it. He lets Daniel live his life, and silently hopes Tim will get a similar kind of happy end. It's a lofty hope, but hope comes in many different flavorsâhope like Superman, or Batman, or Phantom.
And then, two years later, government buildings start to mysteriously collapse.
It's a very eventful four months. Especially so when Tim realizes who is responsible for the collapses.
This is when Tim realizes he's kind of absolutely fucked.
===
Red Robin is, for all intents and purposes, not supposed to be here.
This is nothing new, of course. But this is also not entirely true.
There are very little places a Bat cannot be, much less very little people can do to stop a Bat from being somewhere.
The Watchtower is no exception.
John Constantine's quarters at the Watchtower, however, is a little bit of a gray area.
The problem is that Red is mad. Very very mad.
Mad that something so migraine inducing could slip through the cracks like this for years.
It turns out, ghost visitors weren't the only adversaries Phantom was fightingâno. It was humans too.
Not just the Drs Fenton, who were deemed no threat whatsoever, but an actual government agency.
A government agency that had picked up their home office in some remote area in Arizona and set up shop just outside Amity Park. A government agency that hunted Phantom, and experimented on whichever ghost they could get their hands on. A government agency that somehow, somewhere, got a whole law passed that sanctioned all of the above. A law that labeled the local town hero as an abomination, unfeeling, and illegalâa monster to be put down.
And the JL Dark? Did not know.
Because of course, Constantine is a firm believer of locals and occultists staying in their own lanes. It's rude to intrude on a ghost's Haunt, and even worse to intrude on a Protector Spirit's Domain.
Because that's what Constantine classified Phantom as: A Protector Spirit.
The rest of the JL Dark, Dr. Fate in particular, vehemently agreed. And so Amity Park became a "No Fly Zone" and were left to their own devices.
Magic well and truly pisses Red off. He would learn it just to spite the genre of power, but most of the Bats just aren't built for it.
The problem is that Constantine wasn't exactly wrong to do so. When Red traces back the timeline, the GIW wasn't an actual problem until about a year into Phantom's hero career and even then, not really a threat.
They were minor nuisances at best, with the ghost rogues being the most prominent issue for the town. They rarely showed up in town, and on paper weren't even in Pennsylvania.
Reportedly, due to the Death Magic isolating the town in weird ways, the town's cries for help were stolidly ignored. Needless to say even if the JL did come marching in, they would not be welcomed.
That's not to say the town is hostile towards the Justice League, they just firmly felt that their hero had it covered, so why bother? Especially since the GIW didn't really affect any of the townspeople's lives. Apparently Phantom had saved the town from destruction on multiple occasions, had even altered reality at some point though how still escapes most of the residents and the JL Dark members.
All this to say: Magic doesn't concern itself with human laws, so why would a British bastard of a Laughing Magician care to dig into buried American Laws?
Red can't even be fucking mad about it.
This is untrue, because Red can be mad about it. If more people were trained to Bat Standards this would have never happened. Also, Red has a skill in being mad about every little thing that can be imagined and more that can't. Most Bats do, which brings him back to the aforementioned Bat Standards that should be, for lack of a better word, standard in the industry.
Regardless, the end result means that a government agency was allowed to roam and grow to become well and truly an issue, so now Red has to try and fix it.
Secretly. Without anyone knowing.
Most significantly because his family doesn't want him involved in any conspiracies outside Gotham at the moment, considering they just found out about his wholeâŠstint with the LOA involving a high body count and a now lost spleen.
Needless to say, Red Robin is basically grounded. At the very least, Red is thankful that his metaphorical room in this case is the entirety of Gotham, and not the Manor. He doesn't even live there anymore, but he knows Penny One would find a way.
Red sighs as he picks up a mission report form that was supposed to be filled out months ago, stuffed in one of the drawers in Constantine's desk.
Clearly, this is not the place to be. He doesn't know what he was expecting honestly, the older man doesn't even come here that oftenâhe usually stays at the House of Mystery if he can.
The Amity Park issue was so long ago, and it was a fool's hope to think that Constantine would have an organized filing cabinet of his cases.
Maybe he just wanted to break into something. Feel even a modicum of thrill.
Maybe he just didn't want to face the fact that he missed something so big when he looked into Amity Park all those years ago. The only reason Red even found out about it now is because someone has been going around blowing up buildings and are not even being particularly slick about it.
He's also kind of reeling at the idea that he may or may not have recognized the culprits due to the fact that he had been checking in on Phantom moreâŠexcessively than his other past cases.
It's not enough to be a problem yet, but still. The idea that it could have gotten worse gnaws at him. Tim has always had a hard time stopping himself within boundaries. Something about his childhood being nothing but boundaries, he supposes, but now is not the time to psychoanalyze himself.
Maybe some part of him knew something was wrong when he had gone undercover as Daisy for funsies.
Maybe some part of him saw something, something that wasn't concerning enough to do anything about, but gave him enough of a gut feeling that he felt the need to keep tabs on the other hero.
Yeah, that's probably it.
"I mean," Red mutters out loud to himself as he places the papers back where they belong, "my gut wasn't wrong. Look at the situation now."
The situation being a government agency getting their buildings blown up by Phantom and his friends, and a law that needs to be repealed urgently without revealing his involvement.
The room, predictably, does not answer back or even acknowledge his actually very reasonable statement.
Clearly, he needs to listen to his gut more. That, and not talk to himself.
Habits die hard when you're used to a helper in your ear. Static starts to crackle in his comms. He had put a temporary sort of EMP effect on his trackers and communication devices so that nobody could track him, and time is clearly running out.
He swiftly makes his way out of Constantine's quarters through the vents, traversing through towards the middle of the Watchtower.
He'll go through different channels to get those laws repealed, maybe have it come to the attention of Diana or even Hal. Yeah, Hal would be the choiceâhe'd never suspect Red of manipulation. He still thinks Red was joking about the 99 clone thing.
By the time he drops into one of the empty conference rooms he has an almost fully fleshed out plan on gaslighting Hal into thinking he sent Diana a report about the Anti ECTO Laws. The static in his comms have cleared, and as he stretches to get his limbs back in order Babs' voice flickers in his ear.
"Red, why are you at the Watchtower?" The skepticism and suspicion would hurt, if Red didn't know he always deserved it.
"Sightseeing." Red shrugs, trotting out of the room towards the nearest Zeta. "The views are stunning up here."
"I don't believe you." Babs's voice is as flat as a piece of paper. "But I know you won't tell me, so I'm picking you to deal with Condiment Man."
Red immediately whirls around, zipping towards Black Canary's office area. "Sorry Oracle, I have therapy."
"If it were that easy to get you to go to therapy," Dick happily cuts in, "I would believe you, little Red!"
"Dinah has a show." Steph laughs. "I'm backstage right now. Who are you gonna talk to?"
Truthfully, his family knows he does have a JL approved civilian therapist. But they also know he only sees them when he's actually feeling good and chatty, which is few and far between.
This sounds counterproductive, he knows, but he also knows it's the only time he's willing to actually face the horrors of the world. Feeling good happens often enough that Tim's mental health shouldn't be in too much danger, but those moments overlapping with the times he's chatty are few and far between.
He's working on it. Still.
"HIPPA." Red swears as his siblings all laugh and chime in with their own missions and wildly fabricated reasons why they are preoccupied. He knows this is a clearly elaborate way of bringing Red back to Gotham. It would be touching that they care so much, if he didn't know it was also just his siblings making sure he was sticking to his punishment.
"Besides," Jason chuckles, "we already drew lots."
"If you had comms on," Cass is clearly smirking, he can hear it in her voice, "you wouldn't draw the short stick."
Red grumbles and turns back around to get to the nearest zeta back to Gotham.
Today is really not his day.
===
Hal confusingly takes the credit on calling attention to the Anti-ECTO Acts.
It didn't even take Red Robin that long to do it.
It took him longer to get the gross condiment smell off his uniform, in all honesty, but it's done.
The issue has been escalated and the Founders of the Justice League are officially on the case. Red has even been placed on the support team with Cyborg and Babs on hacking duty. It'll be fun, like a little cyberhacking hangout.
Maybe once it's all said and done, his mind will rest at ease and he can mark the GIW case retired just like Phantom.
It's a nice thought.
Not a realistic thought, of course, because Red sees the plan outlined in the files before him and can already tell it's not going to be a quick process.
They want to go slow and steady with this, root it out and inform the public at large in minor doses, change the tides and what have you.
It's not a world ending threat, not with the only active Portal in Amity Park being shut down. There are of course natural portals to worry about, but those are few and far between according to Constantine.
When the JL Dark found out that the Light side was going to take over, there was a lot of ruffled feathers.
A good thing about Red foisting this off to Hal (and subsequently Bruce) is that Red didn't have to deal with that.
All in all, it takes them about half a year to get the ball rolling, and another half to make amends and put in some failsafes to ensure the Denizens of the Realms had proper protection.
Throughout it all Amity Park protests against GIW with them, rallies and throws fundraisers just for the hell of it (the JL wouldn't take the donations, adamant about fixing it and making things rightâAmity Park seemed to respect that, seemed to form a new opinion of the JL because of it).
And when all is said and done, a year after Red set out to achieve this goal the Anti ECTO Acts are repealed and the GIW barely even a speck of dust on this plane of existence.
If he did it himself, it would have been sooner but again, he was grounded and he really needed the distance between him and this case. He cannot let it be found out that he started the movement, because he wouldn't put it past any of his siblings to find out and if that happened?
Tim's fucked. Because they would start asking questions, start digging. Looking at it in hindsight, Tim can see how the misunderstandings could pile up.
The teasing would be relentless, how Tim might have a crush. He can hear Jason's voice nowâchecking in more than usual Timmy? Something good to check out?
Tim's not even going to think about Dickie's disappointment about falling into bad habits. It's not quite stalking, but that fact that it was close makes him prime fodder.
He adamantly does not think about what Steph would say. Or what Cass would not say. All of the women in his family, actually, are very relentless and cutthroat. Tim shivers.
But nowânow that it's accomplished surely he can finally put it down.
His family won't get mad at him for going outside Gotham during his supposed punishment, and he won't get embarrassed by possible misunderstandings of the situation. It's also a win-win for Daniel too.
It's a good Graduation gift for the man, if Tim says so himself: No more Bat check in on him and laws that declare his entire existence illegal thoroughly gone.
Resolved, Red Robin checks on Daniel Nightingale for the final time the day news breaks that the Anti-ECTO Acts are repealed.
Safely sequestered at Mount Justice, Red multi-tasksâpulling up as many news reports as he can on the multitudes of monitors at his disposal whilst looking for Daniel's whereabouts.
It isn't hardâHe tracks the man down to a local restaurant, gussied up with his closest friends and family. They're seated on the outside patio, conveniently in view from a street-side CCTV camera, probably for the privacy. Daniel and his cohorts are the only ones out on the deck, and they're all crowding over a phone.
A quick zoom doesn't allow him much leeway on what's on the phone, but he thinks he can match the color of the backdrop to one of the local Chicago news outlets, one that streams their reports online too.
He watches as Daniel's friends cheer in triumph, and smiles. Tucker Foley is bouncing around like a toddler at a football game, heedless of the public setting, even going so far as to accidentally startle the waitress that comes to take their order. The other, Samantha Manson, huffs and puffs as if to say finally, this should have been done sooner, quickly picking up a menu and ordering for what seems to be the whole table.
He watches as Danny cries silently on his sisters shoulder, big and hulking and incredibly relieved. His sister also took after their father, a lovely Amazonian type of woman, but her hands still look so small against her brother as she rubs his back up and down in comfort.
He watches as his friends get up to squish the siblings together into a group hug once the waitress has left, taking solace with each other like one can only do after years of fighting something together.
Red Robin smiles, accomplished and sated.
Surely, he can leave Phantom alone nowâhe's safe after all. That's the only reason he kept tabs on Danny Nightingale.
Danny Nightingale who continues to live with his sister as he begins his first year of Grad school.
Danny Nightingale who "goes ghost" and helps the dead. Danny Nightingale who submits anonymous tips on cold cases to a variety of authorities all across America.
Danny Nightingale who takes apart a pregnant professor's car "as a prank" and put it all back together again, making it run a little smoother with more safety features for the little one on the way. Who changed the oil and replaced the transmission fluid while he was at it.
Danny Nightingale who walks little old ladies across the street even though he's late for class.
Danny Nightingale who shows up to his sister's graduation with arms full of bouquets, dragging his friends along just so they can help carry moreâwho yells the loudest in the crowd ("That's my sister!") when she receives her diploma in his second year.
Danny Nightingale saves kittens.
Danny Nightingale who watches Psyche and names his motorcycle Blueberry even though it's black with vividly neon green accents.
Danny Nightingale who has the nicest blue eyes and the fluffiest black hair and the softest and goofiest and most charming smile.
Danny Nightingale who takes an extra year to graduate just so he can help his sister around the house a little bit more during her first year as a therapist.
Danny Nightingale who, he realizes suddenly, Tim has been (now, fully) stalking for six years.
Danny Nightingale who gets hired at WE and starts next month.
Tim, now twenty six and a little less delusional, wants to die.
===
Red Robin meets Danny Nightingale moments before he meets Phantom, however briefly it is, a month after he resolved to stop stalking him.
It's a boring, unassuming meeting, not fit for the heart palpitations it causes Red. It's disproportionate, how much 5 minutes with Danny actually physically in front of him affects him.
It makes Red realize this is playing with fire, and it's not even of his own volition. It makes Red realize the Universe is laughing at him constantly.
It wasn't enough that he had to lose Bernard, and Kon, and Bruce, and Jason and his parents.
Now yet again, Red Robin has to deal with the consequences of his actions, entirely because the Universe deems this funny as hell. He's sure of it, because whyâwhy would Mr. Freeze hold up this specific bank? Why would he do it at such an unreasonable time like at the beginning of Red's patrol?
Why would he do it at Danny Nightingale's chosen bank branch, literally three days after he moves to Gotham?
"Hi, uh, Red Robin right?" Danny hesitantly greets him as he grapnels to the scene.
"Yes," Red answers succinctly, because if he doesn't he might cry. "What happened here?"
The bank is a mess, but less frozen over than he thought it would be. Mr. Freeze isâŠnowhere to be seen, which means Red has to get the story stat and get away chase him down.
"Yeah I, uh." Danny scratches his neck. "I kind of handled it? He leftâŠsomewhere, but I jammed his gun so."
Danny produces said gun, frozen over and unusable to him, and with nothing else to do Red takes it.
"YouâŠjammed it." Red reiterates, because he knows Phantom has ice powers, but he wasn't aware Danny Nightingale was posing as a meta. Then again, as much as Tim stalked Danny he really really tried not to, so this is a good sign that at least something stayed hidden.
"I'm a metaâice powers." Danny explains, putting up a palm and recreating a small Red Robin logo out of ice, about 3 inches in diameter. "Can't make anything bigger than this, but, uh. Here, for your troubles."
Red takes the little sculpture offered to him, and wishes it weren't so impermanent. His brain calculatesâhe knows Phantom has ghost ice, which melts at an exponentially slower rate than regular ice. It's also sturdier so Red doesn't need to treat it like it's delicate, but he does so anyway because he's a simp and pathetic.
It will take him 12 minutes to get to the nearest safehouse with a freezer available, and if he manages it correctly he can save it forever.
It's not advisable to save it forever, but he's apparently a lost cause anyway.
"Right, thank you." Red unsticks his tongue from his mouth, getting into work mode with a lot of difficulty. Danny is much taller now, and it's been years since he's been in this close proximity to the man.
He smells fresh, which is a weird scent to note. He smells like fresh air with an icy undertone. He smells like mountain air, right at the peak where the snow caps are.
"Try not to get involved with any more rogues." Red warns Danny, "Gotham isn't the safest for metas."
"I'll be sure to keep that in mind." Danny nods, clearly waiting for Red to leave.
Red hesitatesâjust for a moment. A small weakness because what is he going to say?
Hey, I'm really sorry for stalking you for six years and figuring out your secret identity on accident, but I got those terrible laws repealed and I've been trying really hard to stop I super pinky promise?
Because that will end well.
As if the Universe agrees, one of the chunks of frozen bank cracks right above where Danny is standing.
He dives forward to grab Danny only for the other man to catch him. In the momentum Red twists them, at the same time Phantom grabs the freeze gun hooked on Red's belt, moving with the momentum. Because it is Phantom's instincts kicking in, not Danny Nightingale's, as they mostly get out of the way.
The freeze gun is tossed, as if that will do anything, at the debris as Red spins out. They're attached only by Danny's hand like some kind of dance before Red swings him back into his arms, effectively tugging Danny completely out of the way of the falling debris.
Danny, because now this is all Danny and no Phantom, stumbles backward on a small bit of icy floor. Without thinking Red hooks his arms around the man's neck, and arches back. They tumble to the floor with Red hanging off Danny as he braces their fall against the floor like some kind of bodice ripper cover.
The gun Phantom threw has banged against the chunk, cracking it in half and the fallen pieces tell Red that the entire dance number was definitely unnecessary. Red's not going to say it, but he's thinking about how Phantom used too much super strength in that throw for Danny to feasibly stay as an ice power only meta.
The entire ordeal lasts less than a minute, and Red kind of wants to laugh.
Because he's looking up at the man he's stalked for eight years and trying to figure out, desperately, how they can both get their dignity back after this.
The Universe, as if to take pity this time, somehow agrees and a loud crackling static echoes in his comms.
"Red Robin, if you're done dancing could you please take care of a bar fight gone wrong over on Maple and Plum?"
Still breathing heavily, staring directly into cobalt blue eyes that have these very compelling flecks of hazel in them, Red slowly lets go to put a finger to his ear. It's unnecessary, because he knows Danny has advanced hearing, but Danny doesn't know he knows. So, the finger.
"Why am I being sent to a bar fight?" Red asks, Danny still staring down at him with wide eyes.
"Because Waylon is involved, and I think Harley wants to play." Oracle replies, dryly.
"Copy that Oracle." A pause. "And I was not dancing, thank you. Please delete that mask footage."
Above him, Danny snorts, deciding that enough was probably enough and hefting them both up with an easy strength and low grunt that might haunt Tim for the rest of his nights.
In short order they right themselves, and it's awkward again. They don't acknowledge anything, but even though Tim is freaking out Red Robin is still on shift.
He's got people (and an ice sculpture) to save.
"Stay safe." Red says as he escapes as fast as he can, sweating and surely red under his suit. It's the bane of his existence, this awful blushing pattern that starts on his chest and crawls up his face. It's ugly, even if Bernard and Steph and Kon all said it isn't, it is to Tim.
It's the one thing he's never been able to train himself out of, and his mother used toâ
"You too, Red Robin!" Danny yells, waving when Red glances behind him. "Thanks for your service!"
Well. Nevermind. Gotham calls, and the Bats will always pick up.
He leaves a little lighter with a big smile that nobody can prove.
(And the sculpture is only a little bit melted when he finally gets it into a freezer, just the tip of the leg of the R slightly dulled. He finds a nice box for it to live in, unassuming and plastic, with a little D carved into the bottom of it. Tim takes a million pictures of the sculpture, and even manages to get a casting of it in epoxy resin just in case, which he uses frequently as a fidget at the Nest.
Sue him, it's a comfort. He won't ever get to actually see Danny again, not if he can fucking help it, so Tim will allow himself this. This one thingâtwo, if you count the substitute.
Months from now, Tim will laugh at this, because of how fitting it is that Tim's two symbols of his "relationship" with Danny are an impermanent ice sculpture and a fake resin approximation of it. There's a joke to be made here about parallels and irony, but Tim can't be bothered to think of it.)
===
Tim meets Danny Nightingale because he let his guard down.
His family are bloodhounds, and he's trying his best to obscure the fact that he's been stalking a man for over half a decade because he has no self control and is, frankly, pathetic.
He's trying really hard, and has mostly succeeded in not stalking Danny Nightingale.
The only thing he keeps track of, for the past two years, is where Danny is when he is in WE.
He's really actually proud of the progress he's made, but facts are factsâWE security footage lets Tim know which rooms are safe so that there's no chance of Tim and Danny meeting.
He does not want to ever even entertain the possibility that they would meet and Tim has to pretend, again, that he doesn't know Phantom's entire career history and Danny's work schedule by heart.
He does not even want to think of the possibility of Danny finding out about Tim's shameful stalking all those six years.
Again, the past two years don't count because Tim is only trying to avoid Danny and keep him safe from Tim and minimize any contact possible.
And then Dick calls, giving Tim a heart attack because he's so close and yet so far off the mark, and this is good, this is better than his family ever finding out about that. This is better, because now Tim just needs a game plan on howâ
"Uhm." And one disaster later, Tim's staring into the wide eyes of Danny Nightingale, clutching his bag in the lab that Tim picked randomly.
The phone call with Dick must have distracted Tim from the notification that should have alerted Tim that he was getting too close.
And everything is terrible, so he tries his best to be as formal as possible, and succeeds.
He's never been more proud of himself than in this moment. He survived. They survived.
But then of course, there's the coffee shopâbecause Tim doesn't track Danny outside, which is a flaw now. He thought he was doing so good and suddenly it's all fallen apart.
And then the phone call with Bruce, and bumping into Danny and he needs a plausible reason for all these things happening that Danny is witnessing because of course he does, and thenâ
"I could be your fake boyfriend." And in a moment of weakness he entertains the idea because his family is getting really close to discovering the truth.
It's a long moment of weakness. Butâbut that's not fair to Danny, so Tim musters up the courageâ
And then Hurricane Steph arrives, causing everything to spiral out of control yet again.
He stares at the contract in his hand, at Danny's loopy little signature at the bottom.
His life is in shambles.
===
Tim reunites with Phantom in the middle of the dance floor of his brother's wedding.
He stares up into those cobalt blue eyes again, the flecks of hazel practically glowing green.
"Red Robin." Danny breathes, but there's no time. There's no time, but Tim has to own up to it nowâhe has to. He promised himself that he would, it's just going to have to happen a little earlier than he expected to.
He wanted to be honest with Danny, to a certain extent. Not about their identities, his is entirely too tied to his family's for Tim to make that kind of decision on his own, but aboutâabout Tim's feelings. About Tim knowing Danny before, about Tim knowing way too much about Danny. He was trying to figure out how to explain himself without actually revealing their identities, and mostly even came up with something passable.
Because Danny deserves to knowâhe deserves to know, but he can't know so Tim can only try and mitigate whatever heartbreak Danny might have over someone so undeserving like Tim. After almost half a year of fake dating Tim's not fucking delusional. Danny is a good actor but he's sincere in it, he's so fucking sincere it breaks Tim into pieces.
And Tim has been taking advantage of that, has been shamelessly pretending and reveling in it. Basking in the sweet tender mercies of this man caring for him, caring about him.
And he had promised himself, if Tim could keep him, if Danny would stay, that one day he could be totally honest. That if Danny asked, Tim would tell the truth. If Danny figured it outâbecause he would figure it out, eventually, everyone close to the Bats always does at some point when the Bats get comfortable, when they trust.
And his family fucking wants to, and Tim can see how much Danny blooms under that kind of attention and he wants to cry because it's too soon, too soon.
But it's not the time for these thoughts, not at all, so Tim screws up his tears and locks them away for later.
"Phantom," he breathes back, a little broken before he tapes up all the shattered pieces, and lets himself be swept away.
When it's all over, the maelstrom of feelings does not settle. Dick and Kori are kissing passionately, Danny is cheering and screaming with the rest of his family and Tim doesn't want the sheer happiness he has on his face to fall the second he turns Tim's way.
He promised, and he will, he will. But justâjust not now.
He doesn't want to see Danny's disgust, he doesn't want to know what he looks like when he's hurt or feels betrayed. He wants to keep all those months of memories and pretending and put it in a box and shove it in the freezer to keep forever and ever.
So he runs. He runs to the Nest and sits in the dark and fidgets with the resin Red Robin sculpture.
His phone is blowing up, pinging with increasingly worried texts, and suddenly Tim can't take it anymore.
He throws the resin sculpture into the trash, and takes long frantic steps to the fridge.
He pulls out the box, yanks out the sculpture, and holds it in his hands. The box tumbles onto the floor and the clatter of it would be jarring if he caredâif he could feel anything. His hands turn red enough that frostbite might be a genuine concern, if the ice sculpture weren't so small. The water drips into a puddle at his feet and TimâTim can't help but let his tears join the mess.
"Pineapples," He whispers to himself, words lost into emptiness of the room as his hands clutch at nothing, "and myrrh."
Reminder that this fic can also be found on AO3 :)
Genuinely thank you again for everyone who has made this fic possible <3
===
Tim refuses to see Danny for three days.
Three days.
Danny's a god damn mess about it.
The worst part of it all is that he doesn't understand what happened. He doesn't understand why Tim is avoiding him for knowing his secret identityâdid he think Danny was mad? Now that Danny knows, he understands. Bats are inquisitive by nature, and Danny's been retired for at leastâŠgodsâa decade?
What use would getting mad about a Bat doing Bat things do? Especially on basically useless information?
Danny considers this a good thing, really. It's a huge weight off his shoulders and reassures Danny that Tim is at least okay with fake dating a Halfa. He doesn't think Tim the bigoted type, but it was a serious concern that maybe Tim might not be okay with dating a non-human.
But Red Robin is a member of the Justice Leagueâhe works with alien entities (in all sense of the word) probably daily.
Gods, it's no wonder Tim is always so tired.
The point is, Tim is shutting him out, and Danny's doesn't know what to do.
Because at this point in time Tim might not know Danny wants to be more. It'sâŠhighly unlikely, considering he is Red Robin, but that kind of thing shouldn't ever be assumed.
The first day of no contact this is all Danny can focus onâthis little hope that maybe something could grow here. He had sent a couple of texts to Tim, and occupied his time thinking very hard on the implications of this instead of on the crestfallen face Tim had when admitting he know Danny's identity.
The second day Danny contemplated asking one of the Waynes about where Tim might beâif Tim was avoiding him or not.
That thought was swiftly and thoroughly stamped down, because he doesn't want Tim to get into trouble for Danny figuring out his and his family's secret identities. And he's so distraught about it that he doesn't really trust himself not to blow their cover either. He's not even sure if he should be talking about them fighting it's that bad.
Because they're fighting, this is another fight, but unlike last time Danny can't immediately address it.
The third day Danny tries not to cry, because he feels so alone. He's been avoiding his chat with Sam and Tucker for fear of the aforementioned secret identities thingâit's not his secret to tell, and thinking on it he had already failed Tim once on keeping one secret so he'll be damned if he failed Tim a second time for something way more serious.
A small part of him whispers that it might be the third time he's failed Tim, but that small part can shut the fuck up.
All three days he had transformed himself into Phantom and invisibly tried to find Tim to very little effect. He had found the other Bats of course, and even popped down into the Bat Cave briefly, but he tried not to do much more than that considering the family have some kind of uncanny sense to know something (or in this case someone) was watching them.
Most irritating of all, he hears about Red Robin, but can't fully find him. It's like the man has some kind of tracking on Danny, and considering he's know about Phantom, Danny wouldn't be surprised if that were the case.
All this to say, by the time the fourth day arrives, Danny is a mess, head in his hands sitting in his apartment with all the lights off. He's distraught, confused, frustrated, and feeling a little on the edge of breaking.
This is how Jazz finds him, using her copy of his key to enter his apartment and cruelly turning on all the lights as an act of sisterly crime against Danny's eyes and brooding.
"I heard you had a fight with your boyfriend." Jazz hums, clattering around in the kitchen.
Danny flinches. "How�"
There's a long silence, long enough for Danny to feel like Jazz won't answer. Normally Danny would pester her for it, but he's not so far gone to recognize that it wouldn't go well for Danny if he did.
He's not sure what he would accidentally reveal, especially when his sister doesn't know his relationship is fake. Plus, he's just. Tired. Drained. So he lets the silence sit, because at this point it doesn't actually matter where Jazz heard it from.
He hears the soft thump of Jazz sitting on the other armchair, smells the herby scent of tea, and feels the soft little sigh Jazz has before she sips from her mug.
Danny takes his head out of his hands to grab his own mug, just as she sets hers down. She arranges herself into what Danny privately thinks as her "active listening therapist" pose: legs crossed, leaning slightly forward, hands resting delicately on her knees, face open and accepting and neutral.
Except Danny's known her all his life, and he knows when she's reluctant to say something. It's in the way she glances to the side, the way she occasionally tucks her hair behind her ear, the way swallows before wetting her lips.
He braces himself, gripping tightly onto his mug and grounding himself on the heat of it.
"I'mâŠseeing someone." Jazz softly says, as if she's telling him she's committed a crime.
"âŠOkay." Danny says, perplexed. The timing of this news could be better, but he doesn't understandâ
"It's more of aâŠ" Jazz winces. "Well, a situationship, for lack of a better term."
Danny blinks. A what. Danny gapes, mouth flapping open and closed because what. And then the rage starts to flow through him because that is his sister who the hell would have the nerveâ
Jazz coughs, clearing her throat and bracing herself, determined. "I'm seeing Jason Todd."
The world goes a little quiet. The rage is kind of fucking incandescent.
Don't get Danny wrong, Jazz is a strong independent woman and can handle her own affairs. She can have a physical relationship with someone if she wants to, she canâŠugh sleep around if she wants to. That's her body, so it's her prerogative.
But Danny is also kind of a meathead, and definitely a little brother. Jazz was his entire world, once upon a time. She's still a really big part of it. A very vital part of it.
Danny can be mad and plan the swift death of anybody who thinks they can just use his sister as a physical outlet.
"This is great." Danny says absently through the murderous haze. "We can have something in common."
Jazz blinks, clearly not expecting that. "Yes? Yes! I mean. You have the cookingâ"
"He died once before you know?" Danny smiles, serene. "That means if I kill him again we can be buddies. I came back both times but surely JasonâŠ"
"Danny!" Jazz gasps, outraged. "You are not allowed to kill my situationship."
"Not even a little bit?" Danny implores, wholly aware he's being whiny.
"Are you really going to be acting this way?" Jazz raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she leans back into what Danny dubs her Tired Big Sister slouch. "Hypocrite."
Danny winces, trying to explain himself. "Listen, I am all for you beingâŠfree with your body but what Tim and I had was a mutual understandingâ"
"I'll have you know that I'm the one making the ship a situation." Jazz sneers, face a bright red. "He's been trying to woo me, and I'm having a little bit of fun."
"âŠWhat." Danny blankly says, because inflection is a myth and he's afraid to actually ask because he's not sure he wants to know.
"He's very fit." Jazz smirks, and he's never hated his life until now. "He looks very cute when he's desperate for me."
"Ew." Danny says, at a loss for anything else. "Ew, ew ew ewewewâ"
Jazz huffs, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "You asked."
"No I did not." Danny gags, trying not to throw up. He will never be able to look Jason in the eye ever again. They'll have to go back to silently exchanging baked goods by leaving them in front of their doors.
Jazz sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose in irritation. "I'm not bringing this up to keep you updated on my sex-life, believe it or not."
"No?" Danny mutters, somehow offended. "I thought we could tell each other anything."
Jazz cuts a glare at him that shuts him up pretty effectively through sheer body memory. You don't just grow out of that kind of parental/older sibling glare even when you're an adult.
"Funny coming from someone who hid a situationship for how long?" Jazz shakes her head, not wanting an answer. The guilt stabs him harder than anything else she could say, honestly. "The point is, Jason has been ranting and raving about something going on between you two. He's convinced something went wrong at the wedding, since he saw you left on your own."
"Why didn't he bring you as a date?" Danny mulishly tries to change the subject. "I recall some other red head going with him."
"His long time friend." Jazz rolls her eyes. "And I'm sure I don't need to tell you what a bad idea it is to bring a situationship as a date to your big brother's wedding."
Danny purses his lips. Because that's kind of exactly what Tim did, even if their situationship is only a situation because of a shoddily written up contract and a Wayne Standard run-of-the-mill NDA.
"Is it because he's Red Robin?" Jazz asks, practically breaking Danny's neck as he whips his head to stare at her open mouthed.
Jazz, unbothered, flaps a hand at him. "I figured out through Jason. He's very good at hiding it, granted, but he's not the only one with vigilante brothers."
"It's not because he's Red Robin." Danny croaks, hunching his shoulders and cringing as his voice steadily goes lower with each word. "IâŠthink it's because I'm Phantom?"
"What." Jazz's voice is dangerous, the voice she used when she put the Observants in their place, the voice she used when she firmly told their parents not to contact them anymore just before she graduated her Undergrad, the voice she used when she found out Skulker wanted to skin him.
Danny hurriedly explains the situation, because no matter what Danny doesn't want to assume, and Tim has been so good to him, and clearly has known for so long, and even through the fog of possible heartbreak he can tell Tim was guilt-ridden and scared about something.
He just wished that something didn't involve Phantom.
When almost all is said and done (Danny thankfully still has a good enough state of mind to leave out the fake dating part) he stares at his hands awaiting Jazz's judgement. He clutches his hands together, as if to metaphorically hold himself together by sheer force of will.
Judgement might be the wrong word to use, but it's all he has right now. Awaiting judgement is easy, with Jazz, because he knows she loves him. That she loved him enough to throw away most of her childhood for him, that she stood up to their parents for him.
"I think," Jazz carefully parses out her words, "that perhaps Tim is scared of your reaction."
"No, really?" Danny mocks, unable to help himself. He shuts his mouth again when Jazz gives him a Look.
"Which means," Jazz emphasizes, almost spitefully, "that he's going to avoid you as much as possible."
"I've already been searching for him as Phantom," Danny makes a face, frustration mounting again. "Invisibly, of course."
"Of course." Jazz nods in approval. "But you have something better than Phantom, don't you?"
"I do?" Danny perks up, hopeful.
"Well, of course." Jazz makes a helpless smile. It's the smile she makes when he does something funny. "Your Obsessionâyou have Connections."
Danny pauses. Connectionsâmakes sense. It fits Danny like a glove he never knew he owned. "Where the hell were you when Ghost Writer was ragging on my ass about my Obsession?"
"At home." Jazz shrugs, careless, as if Danny and his friends haven't been fucking banging their heads on the table about this. "You never asked me on the rare occasion you actually called."
Come to think of it. That was after he moved out of their apartment and moved to Gotham. Damn. Made a fool of and guilt tripped in one fell swoop. Jazz always was brutally efficient. "Sorry."
Jazz sniffs, but there's a smile that says she forgives him. And then her words actually click.
"Connections?" Danny scrunches his eyebrows in confusion.
Jazz grins.
===
"Lesser Red." Hood's voice crackles on the comms. "Come in, Lesser Red."
"Why is that worse than Replacement." Red Robin deadpans, tired of his brother's shit. It's the end of his patrol and he just wants to go to the House Boat and hermit again. Avoid Danny and cry about it into a tub of ice cream or something.
"Because it is." Robin's voice sneers. "But it is also accurate."
"Play nice children." Oracle sighs. "Red Robin, can you please join Hood on the border of Crime Alley?"
"What, another gang shoot out?" Red immediately locks in, swinging with more purpose now. He's relatively close, so it won't take long.
"No." Oracle laughs, "You were requested, specifically."
"By who?" Red raises an eyebrow even though his family can't see it.
"By the rogue," Hood is definitely smirking, Red can hear it. "They even bribed me to expedite the process."
"Because that doesn't sound like a trap at all." Red rolls his eyes even as tension rolls through him. "I thought you got over your murderous rage phase when your second puberty ended."
"Hardy Har." Hood scoffs, the sound of rustling denoting that he's also traveling somewhere. "Anyway, I accepted the bribe like a good Crime Lord so I'm bouncing."
"He's got a hot date tonight." Oracle delights, to which he can hear several cheers and hoots and hollers and even a whistle or two. "My bribe for helping was details."
"And O has been sworn to secrecy so fuck all of you." Hood gruffs.
"This does not bode well for the safety of my being." Red drawls, just as he arrives to the pinned location: an unassuming alley just two blocks from Hood's territory. "But I'm here soâ"
And then his feet get frozen to the asphalt.
"Hello Red Robin!" Mr. Freeze cheerfully calls out from behind him.
Tim, frozen in more ways than one, feels dread crawl up his spine. "âŠHello, Mr. Freeze."
"Please, call me Victor." Victor waves as drops down from the fire escape above him to meet Red's gaze. "I will be retiring soon after all."
"Congratulations." Red tilts his head in confusion. This does not answer any of his fast rolling questions going through his mind. Like why Victor is telling him this, why he bribed Red Hood for this, and what the hellâ
"Thank you." Victor looks pleased. "A friend helped me, as they say, figure shit out."
And then the dots suddenly connect.
"Do be nice to himâI'm quite fond the boy, you see." Victor smiles like a threat, before a very familiar rumble echoes through the alley. Red Hood slides into view on his motorcycle, saluting a frozen (both metaphorically and partially physically) Red Robin, barely waiting a second after Victor hops on the back before zooming out. Victor's jaunty "Goodbye!" does nothing to quell the swirl of rage and betrayal.
"You fuckingâ" Red grits out, swiftly taking out a Bat-Ice-Melt and smashing it against the floor by his feet. The chemical compound does its magic, but it's already too late.
"Hi, Red." Danny greets, hesitant and soft and sweetâa soft plea for him to stay that forms itself into a knife that stabs him in the gut. There's a different kind of note to his voice, unfamiliar but familiar all at once.
"Hello." Red croaks out, unsure. Thisâthis isn't new of course, Steph had confronted him as a civilian before, but he doesn'tâthis is too, too public. He doesn't want to think about what is happening on the comms, or what Jason knows, or what Victor knowsâ
"My powers interfere with electronics." Danny offers, that pleading note to his voice causing him to stay rooted. "It'll just sound like static, and Victor doesn't know your connection to me."
Tim stays silent, because he's supposed to be Red Robin right now and he's not sure if he can.
"Victor was the one who bribed Hood too, so he doesn't know anything." Danny pauses for a moment. "But full disclosure, my sister figured out your identities."
Red whips his head around at that, staring wide eyed at a very distraught and sheepish looking Phantom. It explains the quality of the other man's voice. Phantom's voice is echo-y, a little more Other, but it's a subtle difference.
"Not because of me! She also doesn'tâshe doesn't know about us." Phantom winces, looking away. He looks so small, for such a big man. Tim can't help but think it's his fault for it, and it hurts all the more because of that. "She's uh, she's in a sort of situationship with Jason. He hides it well, butâŠ"
"But she had practice with you." Tim finishes the thought, voice a little distant. He's caught on the fact that Jason's "hot date" is Danny's sister, which doesn't seem appropriate for the situation at hand but his brain never shuts up, so here he is.
Mid-crisis and thinking about how much he doesn't want to think about his brother's love life.
"Yeah." Phantom's smile is strained, and guilty, and imploring all at once when Tim focuses back in. That's what breaks Timâthat he clearly thinks he's done something wrong when it's Tim who's done everything wrong. Who always gets it wrong eventually.
Who falls short, time and time again.
He wants to cry. Red Robin seems like a far away thought now, leaving only Tim standing lost in the middle of an alleyway. Suddenly the suit feels like a costume, like he's walked into a gala as Mr. Sarcastic.
"Can we talk?" Danny asks, because even though it's Phantom before him Tim can't think of him as anyone else in this moment when he looks so human in his ghost form. So defeated. "I want to knowâŠI just want to understand."
Tim's shoulders slump. He tries to put Red Robin back on but his shoulders feel clunky, too big.
"I was about to go home." Tim admits.
"Home beingâŠ" Danny bites his lips. "Not the Penthouse?"
"Not the Penthouse, no." Tim winces, looking up at Danny through his domino as he wrings his hands. "I call it the Nest."
"You're very good at hiding." Danny tries to lighten the mood, which causes Tim to flinch again.
"âŠI'm sorry." Tim whispers.
"No!" Danny practically yells, before he forcibly calms himself down when he sees Tim jolt in surprise. "I just meant that it's impressive."
A short silence, before Danny starts frantically babbling.
"I followed your siblings, you know? Tried to uhm, track you down because I was worried." Danny smiles awkwardly, scratching the back of his head nervously. "I was looking for youâinvisibly of courseâat the Penthouse, at the Manor, found the Bat Cave which, like, cool dinoâ"
Danny clamps his mouth shut, looking like he wants to die of embarrassment. Tim tilts his head, not understanding what's so embarrassing at the thought. It's often one of the first things visitors of the cave take note ofâand then he blinks, because he realizesâŠ
"Go ahead." Tim exasperatedly says, lost in the comfort of familiar ground. "Finish the thought."
"I named him Zippy." Danny blurts, before his face goes a splotchy green. Phantom has freckles that mirror Danny's, Tim realizes, and it might ruin him more than he already is.
There's a long silence as Tim processes this in a million differences. Shall I compare you to your human form? Shall I count the ways? Jason would fucking choke on Tim's abysmal butchering of the English Language this way.
"But Chompy was the second choice, wasn't it?" Tim smiles. This man and his Psyche references, seriously.
"Yeah." Danny beams, like Tim has given him the world, and that more than anything slams him back down to Earth. Tim doesn't deserveâ
He coughs, getting himself back on track. "So, we canâŠI can meet you there, orâŠ"
"I can follow you." Danny nods, lifting up and letting his legs blend together into a ghostly tail. "You won't see me, but I'll be right behind you."
Tim watches as DannyâPhantom disappears right before his eyes. Thermals reveal a cold spot, but it's minute, formless like a wisp of air.
He swallows, swinging back up to the rooftops to make his way to the Nest, adamantly not thinking about the parallels of Orpheus and Eurydice.
He doesn't look back a single time, but it's only because he keeps tricking himself into thinking the icy wind is Phantom's comforting touch.
===
The Nest, Danny is amused to note, is an unassuming house boat, docked a little ways away from the other boats on the harbor.
There's a joke to be made here, about Robins not being water birds, but then again Robins aren't exactly nocturnal either so what would the point be?
The boat isolated enough to give privacy and have it's own "private" entrance, cloaked and shadowed at the edge of the crickety old docks where the rocks of the harbor provide cover. At a glance, it looks almost abandoned, but it's not so far off that anyone would suspect anything. It looks more like the spaces between the Nest and the rest of the boats are justâŠcoincidentally empty.
Danny wonders, absently, if the Bats park decoys here on occasion. They probably do, they seem paranoid enough to keep up that kind of deception.
Red Robin lands in the darkness of the rock harbor shadows perfectly enough to denote routine, bee-lining it towards the Nest in such a way that it would be impossible to see entry if you didn't have night vision like Phantom does, and even then it's hard if you're not actively looking for it.
Danny follows mutely, phasing himself here or there and trying desperately to keep his gaze upon hisâŠto keep his gaze on Red Robin as he slinks into the boat.
The inside is normal at a glance, an immediate little stairwell that Red bypasses immediately by jumping down. He leaves the door open, presumably for Danny despite the fact that he can phase through physical objects. Danny shuts the door, softly, turning visible almost immediately as he transforms back into plain old Danny Nightingale. He stares at the door just for a moment, at his human hand on the door handle, and takes a breath. A bracing one, because he doesn't know how this is gonna go.
The facts are simple to keep track of:
Tim is Red Robin, his family comprises all of the Bats, and he knows that Danny is Phantom.
The problems are not as simple, though the questions are deceptively so:
How long has Tim known, and why does Danny knowing he knows make Tim crumple up and run away?
Until Danny can answer those questions, he can't fix things, can't fix them, so he squares himself up as best he can with such a low ceiling and heads down the stairs.
The Nest looks lived in, cozy. It would be hard for Danny to live here with his bulk and size, but for someone like Tim it's perfect.
A small kitchenette greets him as he touches down to the floor, looking barely used except for the way too fancy coffee maker sitting on the only counter space available. The door beyond the kitchenette is slightly open, where Danny can see the back of a frankly hideous looking grandma patterned sofa.
Danny cautiously ventures in, the door opening to what looks like a combination living space and bedroom. There's just enough room to squeeze the aforementioned sofa on the right, with a TV hung up on the wall opposite with no visible wires in sight. There's an array of quilts, and smattering of clothes here and there on the sofa, making it less than ideal as a sitting place.
Directly next to the sofa is what looks like a workstation with an assortment of gadgets and electronic detritus organized into boxes that have been either screwed into the desk or latched shut. Bungee corded to the opposite wall is what looks like a folded up chair, probably put away when not in use to give more walking room.
Deeper inside there's a bed, semi-square shaped to accommodate the curve of the hull on the left. The head of the bed seems to be attached to the wall, with an abundance of pillows sitting against the wall like a makeshift headboard and a messy blanket leading to the foot of the bed where there's space to go further in.
There's a door with light spilling out from the bottom, and a ladder and a hatch to what Danny thinks is the top floor of the boat directly to the left, where he assumes the door to the bathroom would cover it when it's open.
It's not quiteâŠcramped, there's enough room to walk between all the furniture and walls, but Danny is a big guy. He tries to make himself smaller and debates whether or not he should fold the hoodies that have been left on the sofa to make space for himself to sit.
Before he can do so, the bathroom door swings open and there Tim is, stripped of the suit and in an oversized Nightwing sweatshirt and Batman sweats.
The bags under his eyes are so big they'd need to be checked at the airport, and he looks so small and vulnerable that Danny's heart almost shatters into pieces.
They stand there for a long time, fidgeting and not saying anything.
And then Tim opens his mouth, and Danny panics. A million possibilities run through his mind, all of them bad.
"I could be your real boyfriend." Danny blurts out, desperate.
Tim blinks.
Unnerved, Danny averts his gaze and continues sweatily, "I've been thinking about it. I've been thinking about it a lot actually, and I wanted to ask you about it after the wedding, and I guessâwell, it's after the wedding right now, but also I'm kind of freaking out because I don't knowâŠwhat's going on?"
Danny pauses, glancing at Tim gaping at him before looking away again. "âŠIs it bad? That I'mâŠPhantom?"
"No!" Tim practically lunges towards Danny, shocking both of them as Danny bends back and Tim freezes before he can take more than a single step towards him. "No, it's not bad. It'sâŠthe opposite of bad, none of this is your fault at all."
Danny stares at Tim, hope threatening to choke him. "IfâŠIf it's not bad, why have you been avoiding me for the past three days?"
Tim's face crumples again, and he buries the heels of his hands into his eyes as if to stave off crying. Tim heaves a breath, before plopping himself down onto the bed looking like he's one step away from a panic attack. "I don't know where to start."
Danny cautiously takes a step closer to Tim, contemplating where to sit. He eyes the sofa, which seems a little too far even in such a small space, and the chair bungee corded to the wall. He reaches for it, phasing the chair through the bungee cord to bypass the knots entirely before sitting himself heavily down just a little bit closer to Tim. Their knees threaten to touch, but Danny doesn't let itâisn't sure touch is welcome right now.
Tim peeks through his fingers, adorably, when Danny finally settles within reach, but not so close as to crowd him.
"Well, that's easy. We can start with the facts." Danny tries to smile reassuringly, before clearing his throat to begin. "So, you're Red Robin."
Tim huffs out a broken little laugh. "Yes."
Danny waits to see if there's more, but Tim simply drops his hands between his knees and bites his lip. "And you know I'm Phantom."
"âŠYes." Tim glances at Danny, guiltily, but just like before does not elaborate.
"How long have you known?" Danny gentles his voice, tries not to sound accusing when Tim flinches at the question like he's expecting a blow.
"AâŠvery long time." Tim's voice is small, gaze determinedly stuck to the floor as he wrings his hands out.
"How long, exactly?" Danny asks as nonjudgementally as possible.
"BeforeâŠbefore the Anti ECTO Acts were repealed."
"That'sâ" Danny blinks, unsure if he heard correctly. "Tim, that was almost nine years ago."
Danny winces at the same time as Tim, not meaning to sound soâŠwhat, accusatory? disbelieving? Thankfully Tim doesn't clam up like he had feared.
"I just wanted to check in, at first. Really, honest. And then it started to become habit, checking in." Tim wipes at his face, desperate. He starts to explain the whole endeavorâhow the Anti-ECTO acts made his blood boil, how he accidentally started checking in on Phantom more than normal after finding out, how he started to get an inkling that his self control was slipping.
For a Bat, losing your self control was like a nuclear bomb going off. So he tried, Tim explained, he tried really hard to stop. It didn't work for years, though it sounds like it could have been worse. He never bugged Danny and Jazz's apartment, for one thing. Only his social media, and the social media of the people around him. He would check CCTV cameras of Danny's campus occasionally, and sometimes he would check to make sure Jazz was safe when she would walk home late after night class.
Even though he knew Jazz could handle herself, Tim couldn't help but check just in case. After Danny moved to Gotham, Tim desperately implored Danny to believe him, he only tracked Danny's whereabouts to make sure they would never run into each other.
It was different, Tim tried to articulate, that Danny being in reach was suddenly terrifying and forced him to face his weird obsessiveness. The day they actually met was a fluke, and then the coincidences started piling up, and everything was spiraling out of control too fast for Tim to actually do anything about it. Because instead of treating it like an actual problem that needed to be fixed Tim took it too lightly.
Tim looked close to tears as he quietly admitted that he liked seeing Danny too, and hated himself for it just a little bit.
Danny listened carefully to his entire monologue. It'sâŠmild, to say the least of it. Aside from the frankly absurd amount of time he spent on it, Tim's stalking doesn't even rank the worst thing that his love interests have ever done to him.
Then again, Sam and Val tend to set the bar on things due to being overachievers. (Not to mention that in his experience, women just do things leagues better or worse. Tuck had said once that he saw a post stating 'an extraordinary man is just the average woman' and neither of them have recovered from the truth of it.)
He won't even get into how mild and tame Tim's stalking is compared to Vlad, mostly because he hates comparing anyone he cares about to Vlad.
Honestly, Danny's more impressed by how much Tim actually gleaned from just that level of stalking. Don't get him wrong, it is high level, but it seems that Tim only stalked him in public places and settingsâall very accessible information if Tim had lived in the same city as him and went to the same school.
It speaks to a high intellect that Danny salivates at, or denotes how bad Danny is at hiding his identity. Either way, it's kind of super hot that Tim cared enough about Danny to check on his sister's well-being. It's sweet that he avoided Danny for Danny's comfort, and it's unbearably attractive that he would repeal entire laws for the safety of a species of people that barely even exist in this dimension.
Danny licks his lips, because even though he really wants to kiss Tim, the other man looks like he's about to cry and Danny can't have that.
"Why?" Danny finally asks, after a long moment confirming that Tim has nothing more to say. "Check in on me, I mean. I was a small town hero in Pennsylvania that basically retired."
"Do you remember Daisy?" Tim asks back, apropos of nothing.
"Who?" Danny scrunches his eyebrows, trying to think.
"You saved her, once." Tim clarifies, scrubbing at his cheeks even though no tears are falling. "When she was visiting your Hauntâor, I guess, does it count as your Haunt if you're still alive?"
"You mean the old observatory?" A memory floats into Danny's head. "DaisyâThatâŠthat college student, the one that...What about her? Is she okay?"
"Yes, she's okay." Tim smiles, the first one since the wedding, and it tears Danny apart at how small it is. "Because I'm okay."
"IâŠ" Danny tilts his head, dots not quite connecting. "I don't understand."
"Danny," Tim huffs out a sad little laugh, gesturing to himself, "I'm Daisy."
"YouâI." Danny gapes, eyes darting to every aspect of Tim's face he can see from this angle when he's still not looking at him. It was almost a decade ago, so he doesn't really remember herâhis? face all that well, but. He could see it. Tim certainly is pretty enough to pass for a woman if he tried hard enough. "You'reâŠvery good at make up."
Tim laughs again, this time a little stronger as he finally, finally looks at Danny. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." Danny smiles, soft, and can't help but notice Tim gulp like he's surprised Danny is still even talking to him after this.
"You'reâŠnot mad?" There's a furrow to Tim's brow, and Danny doesn't resist the urge to smooth it out. His thumb presses gently down, causing Tim to jolt like a surprised cat as he blinks up at Danny.
"Tim, I'm gonna hold your hand when I say this." True to his word, Danny holds out a hand for Tim to take. Which he does, after a moment of hesitation. "You stalking me for a decade doesn't even come up on my Top 10 list of terrible things to have happened to me."
"IâŠwhat?" Tim says disbelievingly, almost hysterical. "Howâhow are you so calm about this?"
Danny amusedly opens his mouth to answer, but Tim doesn't let him, immediately getting up to start pacing. Danny, wanting to give him space, pushes the chair out of the way to sit himself on the bed, watching and listening. Tim's words starts to blur together, but Danny gets the gist of it: Tim is embarrassed, that this all happened in the first place (this all being the stalking and the hiding of the stalking and the accidental fake relationship with said stalkee), and doesn't believe Danny can be so okay with him doing all of that and finding out his retired hero identity.
Apparently, Bats have always had a sort of reputation surrounding secret identity mishaps in the relationship department. Apparently, the horror stories Tim has heard and even been in makes everything feel fake.
Apparently, Tim's not sure why Danny would want to date him, much less Red Robin, a known workaholic and obsessive control freak. (As if Tim Drake is any different).
Apparently, Tim thinks he doesn't deserve someone perfect like Danny. Whichâhe'll address the ego boost later, when Tim isn't diving straight into a panic attack. Which is happening, right now, as Tim starts to heave in breaths and counting his fingers just for something to focus on.
Alarmed, Danny stands up only to bump into the chair. It tumbles, folded up, making a loud clatter as it crashes into the trash can and making a mess.
Pro: it gets Tim to stop heaving so heavily from the shock of the sound. Con: what's in the mess seems to make Tim panic more after a second's peace.
In the middle of regular trash, is a Red Robin logo made out of some kind of clear plastic. Maybe resin.
Danny blinks, picking it up slowly andâŠand recognizing it. Aside from the obviousness of the logo being on Red Robin's chestâhe, he made something like this when he met Red Robin didn't he? He remembers wondering if the pocket Red deposited in was insulated for ice andâ
But Danny can't focus on that, because when he glances at Tim his panic has gotten worse.
"Iâ" Tim brokenly croaks, "It gave me comfort."
Danny doesn't think, immediately tries to deposit the resin sculpture into Tim's hand but Tim shakes his head vehemently. He pushes Danny's hand away, as if he doesn't deserve it.
Stubbornly, Danny creates a new one out of ecto-ice, quicker and smoother now that he doesn't have to pretend. It's cool to the touch, a little different in molecular composition. He had practiced hard to make normal ice back when he was a teenager, when he realized the mess it would cause if he forgot to thaw his then-called ghost ice, but it's easy as breathing to use it now.
It's greener in tint, for obvious reasons, and he's grateful that Tim's analytical mind seems to latch onto thatâhis curiousity winning over his panic for just a moment.
This time when he extends a hand towards Tim the other man takes the ice almost like he can't help it, clutching at it and rubbing over the grooves like it's habit.
He's shaking still, but now his thoughts are all in disarray, like the cold is scattering all his thoughts but he can't get out of his own head.
Danny picks the easiest thing to distract him.
"I think Red Robin is pretty cool actually." Danny shrugs, when Tim immediately focuses on him, slowly and carefully picking up the trash so he doesn't reach out like he so desperately wants to. Tim doesn't look like he wants even the idea of being touched in this room. "Red Hood is like, kind of cooler, but knowing what I know just kind of makes him lame now."
Tim snickers, still a little hysterical, and Danny takes that as encouragement. He carefully puts the resin logo on the bedside shelf, making sure not to look directly at Tim.
"And like, now that I know you're a Bat," He begins to properly put the chair away, keeps his tone even and calm as he wrestles with the bungee cord. "Me and Tuck were wondering if ya'll had a suggestion box?"
Tim makes a sort of wobbly hum to show he's listening but is clearly unsure where this train of thought is leading.
"Nightwing doesn't have pockets, and it bothers me very much." Danny says solemnly as he sits back down on the bed, sitting on his hands so he doesn't fidget. "Not even a utility beltâjust the sticks. I heard about the Bat Shark Repellent you know, and I'm very concerned about Nightwing being caught out without one and getting seriously hurt."
Tim is still struggling, but he's starting to breathe easier so he calls it a win, especially when he begins to shakily smile like he doesn't know what to do with Danny. Danny knows what he would like Tim to do to him, but this isn't exactly the ideal time to be thinking about it.
"Which reminds me, Bat-mobile, Bat Caveâ" Danny makes sure to look Tim straight in the eye with a furrowed brow of confusion. "What about your stuff?"
"What about my stuff?" Tim huffs, still worked up and panicked, but at the very least breathing a little easier.
"I mean, are they also called batarangs, even though you're Red Robin?" Danny determinedly keeps his posture loose, making faces in exaggerated thought. "Wouldn't they be called, I dunno, Robin-rangs?"
Tim's face goes slack in disbelief, confusion winning against panic and guilt. "That's what you're focusing on?"
"I mean, yeah." Danny shrugs. There's a long pause here, but this time it isn't filled with Tim's heavy breathing and pacing. It's a thoughtful silence, the kind where the other party is wrong footed, but in a sort of good way.
"They're called batarangs," Tim says with exasperated patience, "Because they're still bat-shaped."
"Makes sense." Danny hums thoughtfully, "Kind of funny to think that the Bruce Wayne thought to name everything bat-themed though."
"It was my oldest brother who named everything." Tim rolls his eyes, voice a little less shaky. "He was nine."
"Oh, no way?" Danny grins, sliding his hands from under his legs and leaning back on them to look up at Tim. "My sister gave my rogues the funniest names before they introduced themselves, but she was sixteen by that time."
"Dick hasn't changed," Tim smiles back, his hands falling to hang loosely by his sides, posture a little slumped from how tightly he was holding himself. "He still puns like he did when he was Robin."
"I got the punning from Jazz too." Danny cautiously gets up to move closer, internally cheering when Tim allows him into his space. "That's another thing we got in common I guess."
"I guess so." Tim finally relaxes, as Danny dares to reach around and hold the man in his arms in comfort. Tim runs warmer than Danny, but the smaller man still sinks into him. Danny feels his insides squirm happily, sighing as he tilts his head to lean his cheek on Tim's head.
"So." Danny ventures when Tim has fully melted into him. "Bruce Wayne is a crime fighting furry, huh?"
A beat.
"Criâ" Tim chokes, snickering into Danny's chest, "crime fighting furry oh my god."
Tim dissolves into these little giggles that make Danny almost float in sheer elation. He's even using the ecto-ice sculpture to cover his little smileâhe's so cute, it should be illegal.
Danny, helpless, simply revels in the closeness of him after so many days without.
"Yes," Tim finally manages through his giggles, sliding his arms around Danny's waist, the ecto-ice nestling in the crook of his back. "Bruce Wayne is a c-crime fighting-ha!-furry."
Danny grins, feeling proud and successful and like he could conquer the world without the death and destruction this time. On a whim he thaws the sculpture out, which makes Tim squeak and scramble a little to try and see what happened.
Danny smothers his laugh and Tim within his arms. "Don't worry, I can make you a new one."
Tim freezes, metaphorically, before he carefully clutches at the back of Danny's shirt. "How did you do that?"
"It's ecto-ice." Danny shrugs as best he can, "It's like fake ice, I can make it appear and disappear without much of a trace."
Tim seems to accept that, hands slowly unclenching and moving upwards into the hug, like he wants to be closer but is scared Danny won't like it. Danny, of course, likes it very much and lets him set the pace as he pleases.
Once settled, they hold each other for a long moment before Tim squeezes, tentatively. "Were youâŠserious?"
"About making you a new one?" Danny hums, squeezing back. "Of course. Any time."
"NoâaboutâŠ" Tim takes a deep breath, nuzzling into Danny's chest and mumbling for a moment.
"You'll have to speak up, Darlin'." Danny implores gently, which gets Tim to squeeze with a little more force for a half second.
"About wanting to be my real boyfriend." Tim enunciates, a little reluctant and scared, trying his best to not sound hopeful.
"I was." Danny reassures him, leaning back but keeping Tim in his arms to meet his eyes. "I am."
That blush Danny loves so much starts crawling up Tim's neck, and Danny eagerly chases its journey as Tim glances away shyly. His eyes get diverted when Tim starts biting his lips, clearly contemplating his words.
"âŠPlease." Tim finally decides on. Which makes Danny's heart go into overdrive. "I would really like it if you were my real boyfriend."
"Yes!" Danny can't help but beam, picking Tim up and spinning him around as best he can in such a small space. Tim giggles, and it's like everything is right in the world, like everything is great and amazing and awesome.
And then they're standing there, in the middle of Tim's house boat, staring into each other's eyes and Danny doesn't know who leans in first butâ
But the kiss they share, their first kiss, their first real kissâit's the kind of kiss that people write songs about. That people write entire odes to, that drive people to invention, that drive men and women and everyone in between to throw themselves over and over and over again against the current despite the hurt and pain and breaking just for a glimpse of.
Tim tastes so good and the little noises he makes shiver down his spine, and he feels so soft and hard underneath Danny's hands. The curves of his waist and the lines of those gods damned abs feel so right in his grip, and Tim's hands running through and tugging and gripping his hair feel like salvation.
It's not quite desperate, it's not quite home yetâthey don't know each other well enough to have dug in so innately, but it's damn near close. It's their lips meeting for the first time, their tongues asking for permission, their teeth promising more to come in the future, their breaths lingering and whispering sweet nothings between each other's lungs.
It's slow, most of all, tentative. It's new. And Danny can't wait to get to know Tim better in this, can't wait to get his hands on the intricacies of what will make Tim tick, until he knows the other man inside and out.
For now, it slides down into gentle caresses, and eventually Danny realizes that Tim is steadily losing steam. Not because the passion isn't there, but because his limbs are getting more and more uncoordinated as the kiss goes on, heavier, like his battery is still puttering but needs a little recharge.
When Danny pulls back, Tim is blinking slow, like each one is in danger of being the last for the night.
"âŠTim, when was the last time you slept?" Danny cautiously asks, in the same tone he would ask Tim where he keeps cups, or a pencil. Unassuming, innocent. Most importantly, not accusatory.
Let it not be said that Danny does not learn from his mistakes.
"MmmâŠ" Tim mumbles, hands traveling up Danny's back and doing a damn good job of trying to distract Danny. "MaybeâŠuhmâŠa day? Two?"
Tim doesn't sound sure, and is definitely in the loopy stage. This means he's been awake for the entire three days it took for him to finally see Danny.
"Okay Sweetheart, now that the serious talk is over how about we go to bed?" Danny makes sure to stay calm, to make it sound like an enticing offer and not the plea it so badly wants to be. He makes his voice lilt, a little sad and pouty. "I haven't slept well at all without you, you know?"
Tim hums, steadily losing fight with gravity. "But kissesâŠ"
"We can continue when you wake up." Danny promises, which Tim seems to accept with hilarious aplomb.
"But I still have toâŠ" Tim yawns, "âŠask you."
"Ask me what?" Danny picks Tim up, gently placing him down on the bed and arranging the pillows and blankets.
"Will you be my date?" Tim mumbles, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "To Dick's wedding?"
"I know it was a disaster and you wanna forget about it," Danny huffs, struggling to get into the bed without squishing Tim, "but we already did that, remember?"
"No, I meanâŠ" Tim huffs, tugging Danny firmly onto the bed and crawling on top of Danny. It is, frankly, a Herculean effort not to kiss the breath out of his new boyfriend again. "There's a, a hero one. Will Phantom be Red Robin's date? You can say no if, if you don't want..."
If you don't want my family to know about you. Tim doesn't say. And, well. Danny barely has to think about itâthe only reason he even tried to hide his hero identity before was because he wanted to stay retired. And though they haven't talked about it, Tim definitely knows Phantom is retired and will stay retired for the foreseeable future so he can't possibly imagine anyone else in the Bat family would pressure him to come back into the field.
"Would I be able to get Martian Manhunter's autograph?" Danny asks, as if to bargain. "Or come to think of it, do you think Starfire would sign something for me?"
Tim giggles that illegally cute giggle again, propping his chin up on Danny's chest with a dopey little smile that might kill Danny all over again. "I don't see why not."
"Then you've got yourself a deal." Danny grins, pulling the blankets over them. He begins to run his hands up and down Tim's back as the other man settles against Danny's chest, drifting softly into the sleep, Danny's own eyes drooping in tandem with the soft breaths Tim is letting out. against his chest.
"We're never telling Jason or Jazz, right?" Tim sleepily slurs in his arms, just before Nocturne takes him. "That our relationship was fake?"
"Never." Danny grunts, wrapping his arms around Tim and squeezing. "Never ever."
Ten Steps To Getting Your Man (and maybe keeping him too)
"You've been working too hard, you know that?" Jazz's voice adopts that soothing tone, the one she uses for work when she breaks hard hitting truths to her patients and know that they won't handle it well. "When was the last time you went out?"
Danny opens his mouth to shoot a pithy reply, exhausted from a long day at work, but Jazz's voice interrupts him sternly. "When was the last time you had fun?"
Danny's mouth clicks shut, and he winces at how it echoes in the room. He slumps further into his arm chair, sighing as he takes off his WE work lanyard and tosses it on the coffee table. His apartment in Gotham is decently sized, being paid well as a civic engineer, but it's a far cry from being spacious.
Still, it feels entirely too empty with just him in his lonely little living room.
"I want to sayâŠ2015?" Danny finally settles on, pressing the speaker button on his phone and plopping that onto the coffee table as well. "That was the year Sam and I TP'd Lancer's house, right?"
"I thought you said that wasn't you." Danny can just imagine the face Jazz is making as she says this: brows furrowed, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose, eyes closed like she's trying to find her patience and failing, and of courseâyes, the gusty sigh of an older sister crackling over the phone. "And that was 2017."
"Ah, well, Sam and I were certainly doing something when the TP-ing happened so." Danny loftily waves a hand towardsâŠsomewhere. "Anymore of this and I might have to call my lawyer."
"All this does is prove my point." Jazz deadpans, tired of his shit.
"Really?" Danny pretends to be confused. "I thought it was proving mine."
"JustâŠtry? For me?" Jazz implores, switching tracks and pleading with him now. Damn, she knows he's weak to that tone of voiceâJazz hardly ever pleads. "Go out for coffee with a colleague, help someone out with those weirdly specific skills of yours!"
"I don't wanna hear any slanderâyou've benefited more than once from those weirdly specific skills!" Danny cuts in.
"When was the last time you rode that stupid scooter of yours?" Jazz shoots back. "Theâthe raspberryâ"
"It's the Blueberry thank you very muchâ"
"Well take the Blueberry and goâgo on a trip around Gotham! Plan an elaborate prank on your Team that takes way too many steps and whacky inventions and very complicated liesâanything to get out of the house."
"It's an apartment," Danny mumbles sulkily, his already fatigued body slumping in defeat, "and, ugh, fine. I'll try. I didn't think I'd ever see the day my responsible Big Sister would encourage me to cause mayhem."
"I'm not encouraging mayhem." Jazz argues. "But you'reâyou're not as chaotic as you usually are. Do I want you to be safe and make good choices? Yes. But that doesn't mean you have to-to change. I'm not saying you have to have shenanigans every day, but the fact that I haven't heard about any in weeks, months, maybe even longer isâŠ"
"You make it sound like my Obsession is Chaos." Danny weakly jokes. "Need I remind you my Obsession isâ"
"I just worry about you, Danny." Jazz interrupts, voice going a little low as she always does when she tries to explain her actions so Danny doesn't feel imposed upon. "With Sam busy over in Metropolis, and Tucker all the way in Jump CityâŠit feels like all you do is work and sleep. When was the last time you gave something an unnecessary upgrade or-or just took something apart just to see if you could put it back together again?"
Danny glances behind him, at the little work desk he has set up in the dining room area. It's custom, the very first thing he built when he got to Gotham in the two weeks he had free before starting his new job.
It's immaculate, cleared of any detritus seeing as Danny does not want to be anything like his parents were: callous with their experiments and letting their work bleed out into the other areas of his childhood home.
There's a row of drawers underneath it, varying in sizes and depth housing all of his tools fit snug between the bottom of the tabletop with the bottom plank attached to the bottom of the table's legs on the left-hand side. A shelf bisects the right-hand side, where his inventions live out of the way.
It's supposed to feel neat, and with a nicely placed tablecloth, can serve as a dinner table if need be.
Now, looking at it through the lens of his older sister's concern, Danny sees how dusty and lonely it looks. He remembers thinking to himself when putting up that shelf for his inventions that he'd have to hurry and think of a solution when it was full, not knowing it still isn't even remotely needed now with only three gadgets on the shelf.
Now, looking at it through the lens of a lonely workaholic, Danny sees how much it mirrors his own current state.
For a moment, he sees what Jazz is trying to tell himâsees it in the dust motes and moody lighting, neglected and shoved to the side masquerading as something else for the time being.
But it's only for a moment. Because even if he's a little lonely, that doesn't mean he's alone no matter what Jazz says.
He likes his life here in Gothamâhis neighbors leave baked goods at Danny's doorstep whenever they're experimenting for new stock for their bakery, and Danny makes the concentrated effort to get better at cooking in order to leave his overwhelming leftovers in exchange.
Lucius is a good boss, the other employees at WE are good and friendly peopleâthey have drinks on the odd Friday or Saturday, depending on if a rogue attack breaks out around their chosen karaoke bar.
Danny even has a sort of bro-ship understanding going on with Mr. Freeze! Sure, the rogue is under the wrong impression that Danny's a meta with ice powers, but it's something colorful about his life!
"I just." Jazz sighs over the phone, voice going smaller and smaller. "This isn't what I meant, when I said you had to grow up."
Danny smiles helplessly, realizing the crux of the problem now. "JazzâŠjust because I've been busy for a while doesn't mean I'm not still living life, that I'm not having shenanigans. Neighbor John and I just exchanged goods a couple days ago!"
"I don't like that you say goods like," Jazz huffs, searching for the right words, "like you're trading drugs or something."
"How dare you reduce Neighbor John's pumpkin pie to drugs. I'll have you know it was to die for!" Danny sniffs, mouth watering at the memory of the spices in the pie that made it so good. "Plus, me, Sam and Tuck video call each other every fortnight!"
Danny was even proud of the samosas he scrounged up and left on Neighbor John's doorstep just yesterday in exchange! He lost like, 3 hours of sleep over it since he came home pretty late, but it turned out amazing, thanks very much.
"The death jokes still aren't funny, you know." Jazz mutters, but Danny has known her all his lifeâthere's definitely a smile somewhere in there even if he can't see it.
"That's your opinion." Danny smirks, pushing himself up off the couch and grabbing his phone to head to the kitchen. Thinking about those samosas got him hungry, and thankfully he still has some left over. "The point is, even if I'm not causing chaos and committing minor crimes, it doesn't mean I'm completely alone and bereft."
Jazz hums in acknowledgement, sobering up a little and probably realizing how crazy it is that she's trying to encourage that side of him out ofâŠwhat, worry that Danny's fundamentally changed?
"Have I been busy?" Danny shrugs, tapping his fingers as he waits for his leftover to crisp up. "Yes. Have I been lonely? Sure, I guess I haven't had a date in a while. Am I depressed? Well, how is that any different from before?"
Jazz huffs. "I thought you were trying to assuage my worries, not exacerbate them."
Danny laughs, a little lost. When this conversation first started, he didn't understand what the hell she was trying to get at. For their entire lives she's been trying to get him to be more mature, to use his talents more, to be more focused. And now she, what, wants Danny to be a kid again? Be less busy? Neither of those things can actually happen right this second.
She knows that, he knows that, so Danny tries to parse it all out. Because at the end of the day, Jazz is Jazzâshe worries about him, and her worry is a well worn and comfortable blanket on his shoulders.
They sit together in silence for a moment, as Danny carefully picks and chooses his next steps.
"Look." Danny finally says, pressing the button to shut off the air fryer after the timer dings. "My last project is just about at the end stages. I gotta do the final presentation on it and coordinate with my team on how it's gonna be forwarded to the big shots upstairs, but after that I'm basically free."
There's a shuffle over the line, probably Jazz adjusting herself as she listens to his consolations.
"I promise I'll take a break, okay?" Danny takes a bite, his voice muffling as it fills with spice and heat and potato. "I'll even take a couple days off, maybe portal over and visit?"
"Don't talk with your mouth full." Jazz tiredly replies, before sighing. "Alright. After your project is done, come visit. What are you thinking, next week? Two?"
Danny hums, a little unsure. He hasn't started his presentation, and whilst he has an abundance of notes to help supplement it, it's not organized enough that he can really estimate with confidence how long it will take. He swallows, and makes a face. "Maybe longer than that. I gotta squeeze in some time for shenanigans after all, maybe do a little breaking and entering or something."
Jazz laughs. "I have a conference I have to fly out to for a couple of days this week. " Papers rustle over the line, Jazz probably looking through her documents. "But after that I should be back to my regular schedule for the foreseeable future so just let me know about two days ahead, please."
"Two days ahead." Danny confirms, as he shuffles to grab a glass of water, "Plenty of time for you to make an itinerary so you won't ask me impossible questions."
Jazz scoffs, back on more solid footing: well worn sibling arguments. "Asking what you want to eat for dinner is not asking the impossible of you."
"I'd argue that it's asking a lot of me, Big Sis," Danny sniffs, affecting a snooty tone. "It's your turf, how can you expect me to know what's available in your area?"
"With how many times you've visited me? Oh!" Jazz's voice goes a little saccharine, "Or is it that you've forgotten everything since it's been so long?"
Danny pouts. "Hey now, aren't I fixing that this very phone call?"
Jazz hums, neither confirming nor denying. Which, ouch.
"You handle the food," Danny bargains, "And I'll bring the amazing stories about my new adventures to entertain you the entire time?"
"Sounds like a plan, Little Brother." Jazz grins, palpable even through the tinny speakers. "Can't wait."
"Can't wait." Danny echoes back with a grin of his own, stuffing his mouth with more samosas as he finally changes the subject to something less involved in his life. "Heyâdo you think the Bats have a suggestion box? I have some opinions on Nightwing's outfit. The lack of pockets and utility belt concerns me."
Danny swallows his samosa, and burps before continuing. "Also, Tuck thinks he might be using one of those silicone butts but I think there's too much muscle definition going on there for it to be fake."
After a long moment, Jazz sighs.
Read on AO3! (Updates will be given on tumblr as well)
"No, dick," a voice hisses outside his lab, "I am not still heartbroken about Bernard!"
Danny winces at the passing thought that he might have to weather out an angry phone call just outside his door. Clockwork knows that he'd never, Gods forbid, ask someone to please take their call elsewhere more private.
He knows Sam or Val would in a heartbeat, but Danny only occasionally has a heartbeat, so he's allowed to pass. Tucker would have stopped everything he was doing to listen in on the obvious tea, but Danny drinks coffee, so. Once again, pass.
He shakes his head, trying to focus on the presentation he's supposed to be working on and miserably failing.
"It's been literal yearsâand we're still just friends," the voice continues, noticeably closer but thankfully a little more calmer. A moment passes, as the voice presumably waits for the other person to talk. "No, I do not need you to set me up on a blind date. Again."
A sigh blows out, loud enough for Danny to hear that unfortunately, the person has decided to lean against Danny's door. He checks the time and jolts, realizing that it's already 7:32pm and he's been working in the dark sinceâwhen did the sun go down?
A quick search says a little less than 2 hours ago. Shit.
His lab must look empty from the outside, and now he's stuck in here. Or worse, the person might come in and find himâthis lab is a public lab after all, used by at least three different teams on a loose communal schedule.
"What's wrong with going to your wedding alone?" The voice asks, sounding world weary. "Besides, I'm a groomsmanâwon't I just be paired up with one of Cory's bridesmaids anyway?"
Danny makes a list of pros and cons about whether or not it's advisable to turn into Phantom and fleeâah, no that won't work. There's cameras all over WE. They'd glitch, so he's not concerned about being caught, but Danny doesn't want to risk it anyway. Gotham has those Bats running around, so you can never really be too careful.
He's not illegal anymore, but he doesn't want to test Batman's "no metas in Gotham" rule. He's not technically a meta after all.
"What? No, what the hell?" The voice suddenly flusters, and to Danny's keen hearing there's a flurry of motion, like someone flailing their arms. "DickâDick! Listen. To. Me. I am not hiding someone from you guys okay?"
It's here that Danny realizes that Dick is a name, not an insult. Huh. Weird, but then, considering Danny knows ghosts named Klemper and Skulker, it could be worse.
"That was one time!" The voice sighs, suddenly subdued as if it's a well worn argument. "I don't evenâwhy would youâI know for a fact you have Babs monitor my shit. And I know for damn sure you have Tam in your pocket too. When would I even have the time??"
That does not sound healthy. Danny's face scrunches up, remembering the times Vlad left all those bugs in his childhood home. Then again, he lets Tucker track his GPS location at all times, and he knows that the rest of them use it on occasion too so maybe Danny should just mind his own business.
"Why would I even do that?" The voice is entirely out of depth now, "I am not ashamed of our family, what the fuck? I'm seriously getting whiplash. What's happening, really? Is it the wedding jitters? Anxiety about quitting the force? Did Jason die again?"
Danny perks up. Thatâwell. That sounds interesting actually. He wonders vaguely if, after the phone call, he could introduce Danny. Maybe Jazz will be happy if Danny joined a "Died Once Club."
Immediately, Danny shakes his head. Jazz would probably actually hate that. Or maybe she'd think of it as group therapy? Danny considers for a moment, before giving up on trying to predict how his sister would react. It's not like Danny would actually talk to the guy on the phone outside his door anyway.
There's a long pause as the voice waits for this so-called Dick to presumably ramble, so Danny takes the opportunity to quietly gather his things. His presentation can wait until tomorrow, orâDanny glances at his phone, next week actually. How is it already Friday? Shit.
He was supposed to try and see if any of his coworkers would have a drink with him today, to assuage Jazz's fears of him becoming a hermit. A glance around the long empty lab shows that Danny has utterly failed. He winces, realizing that's the third time he's done that in the past week.
Maybe tomorrow he'll force himself to go outside and visit his favorite coffee shop in his neighborhood for lunch. He'll take a walk, see if any elderly ladies need help crossing the mean streets of Gotham. Maybe he could volunteer?
He could take a ride around on the Blueberry, maybe go chat with some of the ghosts around Gotham and submit another anonymous note to the GCPD, or maybe send one to the BPD this time, mix it up a bit.
Jazz should be back from her conference by now, and even though she'll get mad he could portal over now and they could get dinner together, maybe?
Danny immediately tosses that thought away, he's still been knee deep in his presentation (he's never been good with powerpoints) so he hasn't really made any progress on "living his life" like Jazz has been hoping he'd do since their phone call.
It would only worry her more, at this point. Maybe he could try that Melon Bread recipe he saw on Rumblr, see if Neighbor John would appreciate the leftovers. But then againâis it really wise to gift a baker baked goods?
Too focused on being as quiet as he could as his mind wanders the possibilities for the weekend, Danny misses the end of the phone call and is therefore shocked into stillness when the door to his lab bangs open suddenly.
Danny, frozen with his bag clutched tight to his chest, stares wide-eyed as the mysterious phone caller sweeps into the room and plops heavily into the nearest chair. With a heaving sigh, the other man leans over, elbows on his knees as he presses his face into his hands defeatedly.
Danny watches in a cold kind of terror that can only come from stupid and embarrassing social situations, as the man tries to calm himself by taking deep breaths and muttering too softly to himself in words that even Danny can't understand with his advanced hearing.
"Uhm." Danny squeaks, when the man finally calms down, twitching violently when the man jolts at the sound of Danny's voice.
In quick succession, the other man bangs his knee on a table nearby as he swings himself up, hissing as he he almost topples over. He straightens back up to quickly slam a hand against the light switch by the door, knocking over several other chairs, three books, a singular beaker and an assortment of random tools along the way.
For such a short distance, it still manages to bring about a cacophony of noise. Danny would laugh if he had the capacity for it, he's sure.
Instead he blinks against the sudden harsh blare of the overhead lights, still clutching his bag, meeting the wide startled eyes of Timothy Drake-Wayne.
"UhmâŠ" Danny says again, this time drawing it out carefully and slowly. He tries to think of something, anything to say, but draws a blank. He always was a shitty artist.
"How long have you been there?" Mr. Drake, Danny isn't sure if he goes by Drake or Wayne and is feeling wrong footing for not knowing, finally asks into the silence.
Danny winces. "Long enough to feel the need to apologize. I really didn't mean to eavesdrop butâŠ"
Mr. Drake wipes a hand down his face, taking one sharp inhale, before letting it go slowly. "It'sâŠfine, Mr. Nightingale."
"Danny." Danny automatically corrects, wincing again when Mr. Drake eyes him over the hand covering his mouth. "Please, Mr. Drake, call me Danny."
"Danny, then." Mr. Drake sighs, looking like he's gained at least ten years on his shoulders. "Please, call me Tim. As cheesy and as rote as it sounds, Mr. Drake was my father."
"Right." Danny says, but doesn't know how else to continue the conversation, so once again he says, "UhmâŠ"
Come on, Nightingale, where's that sparkling wit? Danny thinks, hysterically.
"If you're done packing," Tim tiredly smiles, and Danny is dismayed to remember that Tim is actually one of his bosses, "far be it for me to keep you here. It would do wonders for my ego if you could do me the favor of keeping this matter to yourself."
"Of course!" Danny stutters, adjusting his bag so it hangs off one shoulder instead of holding it like some kind of shield. "And don't worryâI've definitely heard worse family conversations, swear on it."
Tim's smile softens in response, and Danny is even more dismayed to realize that the Gotham Gazette really wasn't lying when they said the Co-CEO of Wayne Enterprises could make bank as a model.
The entire Wayne Family could make bank as models, but only one of them is in front of Danny right now, so. Come to think of itâdidn't Tim do a whole photo spread for the Gotham Gazette recently?
He distinctly remembers abs. There were definitely abs involved.
Do not think about your boss' abs, Danny Fenton! Jazz's voice admonishes in his head.
"That's very kind of you to say Danny," Tim says and it does something to Danny to realize he apparently speaks very formally to his employees, considering how candid he was with his brother on the phone outside the lab, "and I won't hold your blatant lying against you."
Danny has half a mind to ask the other man if he'd consider holding something against him, preferably ab-related, before Jazz's voice scolds him again with a stern stop objectifying your boss, Danny Fenton!
The Jazz in his head never gets his not-so-new last name right, even though he's gotten it down even in his own head years ago.
"Absâ" Danny blurts before coughing. "That is, I'm absolutely not dumb enough to lie to one of my bosses. I'm a shit liar anyway."
Tim's eyebrows shoot up, his smile growing a little more has he huffs a laugh like he's surprised by it. Danny realizes belatedly that he probably shouldn't be swearing in front of one of his bosses either.
"UhâI mean. Anyway!" Danny can feel sweat pouring out from every single orifice in his body, which is not a thing that should be happening. He shuffles sideways until he can pass his boss safely, desperately.
Ah, shit, Danny is taller than Tim by like, a solid couple inches. This is not the time to be noticing that kind of thing, actually, and could not make Danny's life any worse.
Danny is devastatingly dismayed to realize that this angle makes the other man really very attractive, actually. Especially when the other man looks up at Danny through his eyelashes, inadvertently coquette as his really blue eyes crinkle in the corners from the smile he's sporting.
Danny's eyes are blue with little specks of green from the accident, but Tim's eyes are a whole different league. They look unreal, the kind of blue you can almost see through, the kind of blue that feel like you can reach into, like liquid crystal.
Tim is, truly unfortunately, the perfect kissing height. He didn't even know that was a thing until right this second and he's kind of losing his mind about it. He's seen this man half naked on magazines and did not feel a thing. How is it that meeting the guy in person and seeing him laugh that tiny laugh suddenly makes him real?
Like, wow, okay, how can a man this handsome be so severely cute? Suave and cute should not be a thing that goes together, ever, and is actively a hate crime. Against Danny, specifically.
It's kind of ridiculous, actually. Like, Danny's seen hot people before, okay? He was like stupidly attracted to Sam and acted perfectly fine like, 80% of the time and that was when he was a truly horrendous ball of hormones and lust. The point is, he has eyes, sure, but it's never been a problem with his mouth before.
Thinking of mouths is genuinely the stupidest thing to do right now, actually.
"Have a nice day, Tim." Danny rushes out, opening the door hurriedly and just barely managing not to use any extra strength. "Promise I'm better at keeping secrets than I am at lying, bye!"
There might be chuckles in response, maybe even an actual reply, but Danny is too busy shutting the door behind him and fleeing.
It's fine. Tim rarely ever comes to this corner of the research labs, today was definitely just a flukeâhe'll never have to see the guy again and therefore never have to deal with whatever the hell awkwardness that was.
Even if he's a damn good sight to see and probably worth the awkwardness.
"What?" Danny asks as innocently as possible, sniffling as the cold hits his face.
It's moments like these that remind Danny of the stark differences between his human form and his ghost form. "No, I definitely had at least eight hours of sleep."
"Why does that sound fake?" Sam's voice takes on a skeptical tone, which is fair, because it is fake. Not that Sam needs to know that. "Are you lying to me, Danny Nightingale?"
"I wouldn't dare." Danny lies, again. "I remember the last time I did, and what you did in retaliation."
The pointed silence that garners only hurts a little bit. Just a little.
Thankfully, a noise signaling another caller has joined prevents Sam from hissing any threats.
For now.
"Sup, how are my two main squeezes?" Tucker's cheerful voice rings in, loud enough that Danny has to move the phone away from his ear. "Everything tubular?"
"That is definitely not how Californians talk." Sam scoffs, despite the fact that she doesn't actually know with full certainty whether it is or is not.
Tuck clicks his tongue and begins to jab at Sam with exactly that fact. Danny lets their bickering wash over him as he continues on his stroll through Gotham, heading to his favorite coffee shop just a couple blocks away from his apartment.
They make this Irish coffee that warms Danny down to his bones, only available because the cafe serves as a bar in the night time.
It's cold, still in the beginnings of Spring, even though Winter's influence still lingers in the air. Gotham especially seems to cling to it, but cold as he might be in his human form Danny's always loved it. He'd rather the cold than mind melting heat.
When Danny shifts his attention from dodging a Gothamite to get to the door of his cafe, he sees Tim smiling at an old lady he holds the door open for her. When he looks behind him to check for more people, he makes eye contact with Danny. Both of them blink at each other, startled and smiling awkwardly.
The other man is no less handsome than he was yesterday, but Danny is surprised to find that it's not as embarrassing to see the man as he thought it would be. Danny's surprised by how fine he is actuallyâit must be the influence of Sam and Tucker's presence even if only through the phone.
"Enough." Sam sighs as Tim gestures for Danny to go ahead. "Can we get to the point?"
"The point being what," Danny goads, nodding his thanks to Tim and going in. He gestures for Tim to go ahead of him in line, which Tim shakes his head to only to capitulate when Danny insists silently. "That even in our thirties you guys still argue like a married couple?"
Tucker and Sam squawk and squabble at that, which makes Danny chuckle. It's his favorite bit, even when he and Sam were dating he would always playfully accuse Sam of cheating on him with Tucker, which always guaranteed both of them gagging in disgust.
In unison. Every. Single. Time.
"The point," Sam huffs, "is we need to figure out what we're going to be doing for your Death Day."
"What we always do, Sam." Danny drawls, focusing on Tim's back in front of him to make sure he's not too close but not lagging in the line either. "Overthrow the government and ban Christmas."
The shorter man is dressed down in a way that surprises Dannyâthough he supposes he shouldn't be. Tim is younger than Danny by at least a couple of years, despite his many accomplishments, and Danny loves his jeans so he shouldn't be surprised that Tim does too.
He looks very good in ripped jeans and a creamy white cable knit sweater. The slate gray peacoat makes the outfit more mature, though the bright red scarf wrapped around the other man's neck makes him lookâŠcute. Like Danny could sweep him up to keep him warm. Not that Danny could really do that, considering Danny runs cold most of the time. And because Tim is his boss, technically. Also, Danny and Tim have met only once.
Okay, there are a lot of reasons Danny can't do that. But a half-man half-ghost can dream, can't he?
After a moment of taking in Tim's outfit, Danny squints, smiling because Tim is clearly returning the favor from yesterday as he laughs quietly at Danny's joke. It makes Danny feel accomplished, making someone laugh has always put him in a good mood.
Nevermind that it was a handsome man he made laugh. That's unrelated.
"The end is nigh," Sam intones, playing along as Tucker cackles maniacally like a cartoon villain in the background. "Capitalism never stood a chance."
Danny chuckles as it becomes his turn to order.
"One Irish coffee, pleaseâ" Danny requests the barista softly, paying for his drink and tossing the change into the tip jar before addressing his friends again. "Why are we even planning this early? D-Day isn't until next month."
He searches for a spot to wait, only to find Tim subtly scooting over to make room in the surprisingly crowded waiting area. He shuffles in close, but not too close, very aware of all those terrible, terrible thoughts he had yesterday about Tim'sâŠeverything.
"Because if we don't, you knuckleheads would never think to make time for it."
"I resent that." Tucker argues, "My Baby keeps a tight ship around here."
"Are you still calling your stupid PDA your baby in your thirties?" Sam sneers.
"Now that I think about it, Jazz was thinking about signing us up for an adult camp." Danny hurriedly cuts in between that familiar argument. Unlike the others, it always gets tiring real fast. That and the Meat vs Vegan Debate. "You know, the one that Dash opened recently a couple hours from Amity?"
"Oh yeah," Tucker hums thoughtfully, thankfully distracted, "the one that rips off that horror movie, with the camp counselors, right?"
"Camp Eerie," Sam agrees, "with the extra E to follow the horror movie theme he's got going on. He bought up an acre by Lake Erie with the money he made playing college football."
"And with some investment from your allowance." Tuck chimes in, which garners Sam's protestations in a thankfully more harmless way than the other topic.
Sam doesn't get an allowance anymore and has in fact cut herself off from her parents long ago, but there's no denying that she did get a sizable allowance that she invested into stocks back in high school in order to establish financial independence.
Now, she's a fresh face at the Daily Planet and is slowly but surely trying to make her way into the political intrigue world by learning the ropes from the infamous Lois Lane. Now that he thinks on it, Wes is there too isn't he? He recalls Sam saying something about a Jimmy or Johnny or otherâŠ
He's distracted from their bickering and his wayward thoughts when Tim's voice startles him.
"Hello?" Tim hesitatingly asks, but when Danny turns he realizes it's not to him, it's to his phone. "Jason? Why are youâ"
Tim cuts off, before closing his eyes in clear frustration. "You're like the fifth person to call me about this. I am not hiding someone. What the fuck?"
Danny blinks, momentarily distracted. That's the second time he's heard Tim talk about hiding someone, which brings up the question: Has Tim hidden someone from his family before?
Also, hearing Tim swear and seeing his mouth shape the words somehow startles Danny even more. It shouldn't, considering the entirety of, well, yesterday's phone conversation he heard but still. It's startling, is all. He spoke so formally yesterday with Danny.
"Why do you even care? Why would I hide an entire relationship for that long? What benefit would I gain from this?" Tim's lovely face (all rosy from the cold and snuggled under his scarf) scrunches up in an irritated manner, though he remains composed enough to peaceably walk up to the counter to pick up his drink and smile at the barista. "All this hypothetical hiding has done is make you guys more nosy. Make it make sense."
"Irish coffee for Danny?" the barista calls next, which shakes Danny out of his stupor. He makes his way to the counter to grab his drink, only to realize the barista is not the only one calling his name.
"-anny? Danny!" Sam practically yells in his ear in tandem with Tucker, as Danny watches Tim leave the cafe hissing into his phone. "Helloooo?"
"Sorry, sorry." Danny rushes out, feeling guilty and waiting a bit so that he doesn't inadvertently follow the other man. "Got distracted. So, Camp Eerie for D-Day, yeah?"
They make solid plans, Danny making mental notes to text Jazz about it, or at least bring it up the next time he sees her.
"What's got you so distracted anyway?" Tucker asks, once plans have been set and lives have been updated.
"Yeah, Dannyâ" Sam cuts in before Danny can even pretend to be confused. "I can feel the focus slipping all the way over here in Metropolis."
"I bumped into Tim today." Danny finally decides to say, after checking to see the man in question is nowhere around. "Tim Drake-Wayne I mean. Again."
"You met Timothy Drake-Wayne multiple times and you didn't tell me???" Tucker screeches, causing Danny to wince and pull the phone away from his ear for a second.
"I've, uh, kind of accidentally eavesdropped on like, two of his phone conversations now. Once yesterday and now today."
"So?" Sam questions, "Is it something juicy? If it's private I have to remind you I'm a reporter now."
"As if you would stoop so low as to resort to gossip articles about the rich and famous." Tucker scoffs, but quiets down when Sam hisses at him like a cat. She does that, unironically. Has been doing it since she was little apparently. It still brings Danny great joy to this day.
"Off the record thenâ" Danny laughs, trying to think of a way to parse out what he's thinking. "From what I gather, his family thinks he's hiding a relationship from themâand is very bothered by it."
"And that bothers you because�" Sam asks, trailing off in confusion. "That sounds like a typical family thing?"
"He's apparently gotten five calls about it, from different people at least." Danny takes a sip of his drink, relishing the warmth, "And apparently it isn't the first time he's done it."
"This still sounds very normal." Tucker asks suspiciously. "Val hid her relationship with me and you from her dad because of how overprotective he is of her."
"WellâŠI justâŠ" Danny trails off, unsure. "He just sounds very adamant that there's no-one, but none of his family believe him andâŠ"
"What, and you wanna volunteer your fake boyfriend services?" Sam scoffs.
The silence is deafening, and Danny feels like he might die. Again. For the third time.
"Oh my god." Tucker exhales, disbelieving. "Oh my god you've watched way too many Hallmark movies. Christmas was over four months ago buddy!"
"That, or the Star Trek fanfic got to him." Sam is rolling her eyes at him on the other side of this receiver, he can definitely tell. "Is your favorite tag #FakeRelationship by any chance?"
"You have no leg to stand on!" Danny argues, turning red. This did not go as he thought it would. "Miss fake out make outs."
"Have you considered that he doesn't want to prove his family right?" Sam shoots back, ignoring the nickname altogether. "That's if he accepts your offer by the way."
"Plus," Tucker adds, dragging out the vowels as if he's thinking aloud, "how do you know he really isn't hiding someone?"
"I could offer to be his fake boyfriend of however long they think he's been hiding me," Danny counter offers, ignoring Tucker completely. "And then we can stage a really big break up?"
"That's a lot of HR headache to offer to one of your bosses." Sam reminds him, gritting her teeth before mocking him. "Being a walking OSHA violation wasn't enough?"
"It's only a violation if he asks me." Danny loftily reminds her. After a moment, he adds in belatedly, "And he's not technically in charge of my department."
"Yeah, because he's technically he's in charge of your entire company, Danny." Sam stresses. "Which includes your department."
"...That's a minor technicality." Danny retorts after a moment, biting his lip.
"There's still the technicality that there might actually be someone already..." Tucker singsongs insistently, which hurts. Danny thought Tucker would have agreed if only for the entertainment value. He's the one that got Danny into those stupid Hallmark movies anywayâit's the only aspect of the Christmas season he even remotely likes, just by how stupidly corny they are.
Everything else about the holiday can burn, in his humble opinion. Though, ever since Jazz and him separated from their parents they've been making their own traditions about it instead, so it isn't as bad now.
"Well, maybe me being a substitute will help get the heat off this mysterious hidden person." Danny weakly sniffs back as he makes his way up the stairs to his apartment. He had looped around the neighborhood during their call, just so he wouldn't be pacing back and forth in his apartment. It was barely an hour long outing, and he's already dead tired.
"You can't be serious, Danny." Sam sounds helpless, and confused. Which is honestly fair. He doesn't know where this came from either. "That's an insane idea, even from you."
"Jazz thinks I'm not having enough fun." Danny tries to argue, playfully of course. "This is me, having fun. I'd be a really good fake boyfriend!"
"On what basis?" Tucker genuinely asks. "You were a great real boyfriend, far as I could tell as your totally unbiased best friendâ"
"Can confirm." Sam grumpily and clearly begrudgingly cuts in, though Tucker simply ignores her and continues.
"But a fake boyfriend?" Tucker sounds imploring now, "be so for real right now Dannyâyou'd get too invested. Not that that's a bad thing! It's good that you're so caring! That's what we love about you."
"Regardless," Sam adds in, not letting Danny have any time to even process whether or not Tucker is insulting him or complimenting him. "You barely know the guy. Unless there are more incidents that you haven't been tell us about?"
"I didn't think you guys would take this so seriously." Danny grumbles, before huffing, "It was just the two times."
"It better, not telling me right away is already an affront to our best friendship just FYI." Tucker grumbles.
"We take it seriously because we have to be careful about you manifesting this kind of energy in your life," Sam emphasizes her words, as if they're supposed to mean anything to Danny, "since, as you seem to be ignoring, he's your boss. Things could get messy real fast you know."
"It was just an idea." Danny grumbles, cowed and hurt by it. "It works in the moviesâit's Tucker's fault that I'm predisposed to crazy ideas like this by the way."
"Just be content admiring your boss from afar and move on," Tucker consoles, laughing a little to soften the blow as he tack on in a joking tone, "this is not a unique experienceâSam would totally jump Lois Lane's pants if she had the chance!"
Sam sputters in a mix of flustered rage, and Danny lets out a sigh as sinks into his beloved armchair. He lets their bickering wash over him, a comforting sound that warms him just as much as, if not more than, the drink in his hand.
He sips, chiming in with a comment or two, a little disappointed but not surprised. Seeing his boss twice in as many days was a funny little coincidence, like some kind of novel or movie, so Danny couldn't really help himself with his runaway thoughts. It was a silly idea, but again he didn't really think his friends would take it so seriously.
He was just sort of kind of joking, why are they acting like he would actually do it? He's said crazier things in their youth. Tucker has said even more insane things, and don't even get him started on Sam's "righteous justice."
It all makes him feel kind of foolish. But, he guesses some things have to be rooted in reality now that they're adults. Maybe this is what Jazz meant when she said he was changing. He just didn't think it extended to his best friends too.
They used to talk all sorts of hypotheticals back in the dayâand hell, their lives with the Realms involved is nothing less than weird.
Oh well. He went on his mini adventure, and that's all that he set out to do today so he'll take the win.
It really was fun to think about though, even if it got taken way too seriously. Danny isn't that unhinged, thanks very much.
After all, Danny never actually intended to offer Tim to be his fake boyfriend.
In lieu of AO3 getting shut down im updating a little early!
No intro snippet this time, for humor reasons. gonna have to click the "keep reading" to see it :)
Edit: forgot some people are whiney /j @agentnavi @chromatographic
===
"I could be your fake boyfriend." Danny blurts out, feeling like he's having an out of body experience.
His mind is kind of spinning right now. He's not sure how he got here. Perhaps this is all an elaborate dream Nocturne has trapped him in, or wires got crossed with Ghost Writer. Danny doesn't even want to entertain the thought that Desiree might be involved. He hasn't said the words I and wish consecutively since he was a teenager and growing facial hair in a very unfortunately patchy pattern.
He was only supposed to be going through the team notes on the final (final_final_thistimeforREALfinal.pptx) presentation, not sitting across from Timothy Drake-Wayne, Co-CEO of Wayne Industries and kind of sort of his boss and doing the exact thing he wasn't supposed to be doing.
"Wait, really?" Tim perks up from where he was slumped on the table. "I was kind of joking but you'd really be doing me a huge favor. It doesn't make you feel uncomfortable?"
Maybe it's the setting that's doing it. Tim looked so sad and vulnerable and defeated, Danny couldn't stand it. He barely knows the guy, but he knows it's been a hellish couple of weeks for the man.
Before, Danny had thought he would never see Tim down at the labs ever again. After the coffee shop sighting, he'd thought it was just a couple of freaky coincidences. But now that they've broken the seal apparently, it seems like Tim is actually a more frequent visitor of the basement labs than he thought and Danny has justâŠnever noticed him.
He's seen Tim march back and forth between labs at least three times now, a trail of secretaries and scientists and engineers and even a janitor following the man around as he hops between projects like a particularly well postured bunny. It's never a large grouping, Tim seeming to always focus on only two or three people at a time, but it's still strange for Danny to not have seen, or rather noticed before.
He had subtly probed his coworkers, and apparently this isn't a new thing at all. Apparently Tim does this every Spring Season, when the projects are back in full swing after the holidays. And Danny has just. Never noticed.
And those three times alone tell Danny Tim's been harangued by not only his family, but an abundance of work projects that are coincidentally having issues left and right.
It made Danny pity the man, especially when he witnessed young Damian Wayne practically accost Tim about his so-called paramour in front of not one, but four upper managers in the Lobby of WE quite literally two days ago.
(Not that Danny's weeks haven't been a walk in the park either.
Working on a presentation on a project involving more than 14 members across two different teams isâŠ.not very easy to say the least.
Thankfully Danny's only in charge of providing information and correcting data, even though people keep changing his corrections for some gods damned reason.
Still, it shouldn't take weeks to do one single powerpoint presentation. Don't even ask him who will be in charge of actually presenting the damn thing, nobody will actually answer or volunteer.)
And now, through a series of circumstances Danny still isn't sure of, they've ended up bumping into each other just a block away from Neighbor John's bakery. Quite literally too, as Danny somehow failed to perceive the other man sulkily recovering from, apparently, a terribly exhausting phone call with his father.
His father, Bruce Wayne, the Big Guy Upstairs. Danny tries very hard not to think about it.
(He likes Bruce Wayne, really he does. He's a better billionaire than Vlad ever was or even will be and seems like a genuinely funny and charming guy.
The problem is that even though he feels genuine when he smiles and takes care of his employees, Danny just can't shake this weird feeling that the guy is hiding something.
After finding out that Lex Luthor is just as much of a shit-head as Vlad is, Danny has had a very low tolerance for billionaires.
The problem is that against all odds, Danny likes Bruce Wayne despite knowing the guy is hiding something. Because the guy has done some good stuff for Gothamâeven the world. Enough that Danny feels a tiny smidgen of hero-worship, along with his really nice direct boss Lucius Fox.
Bruce Wayne and Lucius are the kind of people Danny wished his parents wereâthe kind of people Danny's parents could be if they weren't so stuck on ghost hunting. if they weren't dead set on their preconceived notion that ghosts are Bad, and Unfeeling, and Terrible.
All this to say: Danny's conflicted and he doesn't like that so he tries not to think about it.
He takes his hero-worship of Bruce Wayne and Lucius with a large grain of salt, so he doesn't feel too disappointed if they prove him wrong one day.)
The point is, when he bumped into Tim and caused the man to drop his coffee (thankfully onto the ground) Danny had offered one of his newly acquired pastries in consolation. Tim, either due to being so broken from the phone call, the coffee, or just Too Tired to keep up pretenses any longer, accepted it silently without even a token protest.
Soon enough, they had found themselves an outdoor table at a park nearby, an agonizingly quiet five minutes away, munching on pastries together.
Danny took the time to tell Tim about inane thingsâthe stars, some weird shit about astrology he learned recently from Sam, about the perils of powerpoint presentations and group projects threatening to ruin his weekend and beyond, how he'll see Jazz over the weekend and how it's been a while, anything he could really think of in the moment.
He spoke lowly, yapping mindlessly as they chewed their pastries until there were only crumbs leftâuntil Danny gathered their trash and tossed them.
And in the time it takes Danny to try and regather his thoughts and figure out more topics appropriate to babble about to your sort of boss, the floodgates start to creak open.
Tim told him all about itâhow his family is convinced he's hiding someone, how Tim had felt angry at first, before the resignation flowed over him.
How, in his family's defense, Tim has never been good at opening up. His other siblings are adopted, just like he was, but Tim wasn'tâTim and Bruce's relationship was different.
How Tim is at a loss because now he knowsâhis family isn't mad at him for hiding this non-existing person, his family are worried.
Worried that Tim feels left out, that Tim doesn't feel comfortable enough to share his life with them, that Tim doesn't care.
Which, clearly, isn't the truth at all.
And then the reason Danny's in this terrible predicament had been breathed out into the world.
"I almost wish I did have a person to hide, it feels like I'd disappoint my family if I didn't." Tim, head in his heads, had grumbled desperately. There was a manic tinge to his words. "Maybe I could hire an actor, or something."
That's when Danny's mouth worked faster than his brain did. And that's where they're at nowâDanny offering to be his boss's fake boyfriend.
"Wait," Tim continues as Danny's heart races unevenly. It feels like it's about to skid out on black ice, and he's on edge because of it. "This is technically an HR violation isn't it?"
"I offered." Danny's tongue unsticks itself, because of course it does. "And you're not technically my boss."
Tim thinks on that for a moment, and Danny shouldn't be finding the man tilting his head like a puppy so cute. But he does, fuck, he does. "IâŠsuppose you're right. It does lend credibility."
"Credibility?" Danny echoes, still kind of out of his body.
"On why I would hide it." Tim shrugs, before making a face. "Now that I'm calmer I just realized how terribly rude I've been. I'mâŠso sorry for dumping all of that on you."
"Don't be." Danny shrugs back, thinking hysterically about what he's going to tell his friends. Or, Ancients forbid, what he's going to tell Jazz. "Sometimes it's easier to open up to a stranger."
Tim wipes a hand down his face, sighing. "Still, I shouldn'tâ"
"I've always wanted to be part of a Hallmark movie." Danny interrupts, as if that makes any sense whatsoever.
Tim laughs, like it was punched out of him, and Danny should not be feeling immense pride about being the cause of it.
After a moment of gathering himself, Tim smiles a little helplessly words a little more formal again, "It's really nice of you to offer, but I'm not sure if we shouldâ"
"I knew it!" A shrill voice startles both of them, Tim's eyes going wide-eyed in panic. Danny turns to see a woman stomping her way towards them almost angrily, if it weren't for the victorious smile she's sporting.
"Fuck." Tim breathes out, but Danny can't focus on that. The woman looks like a shark in the water, and Danny and Tim are the chum buckets.
When the woman finally arrives at their table, she slams her hands down hard enough to shake the table, causing both men to jolt and scooch away in haste. The woman, a blonde woman with dagger sharp eyes that reflect aquamarine in the light, points at Danny as she continues to yell at Tim.
"I knew you were hiding someone, I knew it!" The woman's finger is dangerously close to Danny's eye, so he delicately pushes it away with his own finger. She doesn't even flinch, or even care. "You thought you could hide it from us, from me, but I'm here to tell you you failed."
"Stephâ" Tim sighs, shooting an apologetic look at Danny before frowning up at the newcomer. "At the risk of sounding cliche it's seriously not what it looks like. Danny isâ"
But Steph isn't having it, she beams and faces Danny instead, ignoring Tim altogether. "Hi, Stephanie Brown. It's nice to finally meet you Danny!"
Danny, with not much else to do, smiles and shakes the proffered hand with a firm but not too firm grip. "A pleasure."
Tim grabs Steph's wrist, yanking it away from Danny and forcing her to look at him. "Steph, I am not joking, Danny isâ"
"Save it, Tim-ochio." Steph twists to break free from his hold, opening her hand wide and pressing Tim's face away from her whilst also preventing him from speaking any further. "Listen, Danny. Here's my number. I expect a text, and you can expect the rest of the family to find out soon enough. I'm sorry, I really amâI went through it when I went out with this guy too."
Danny takes the card. "Ah, so you are that Stephanie Brown..."
He remembers when the tabloids exploded at the reveal of their relationship when they were teens, remembers the candids and the occasional awful things they had said about the then teenage girl, even all the way in Amity Park. He remembers, most of all, how their break up articles were very subdued, almost like Gotham was being delicate about it for once.
Sam had said that the Waynes had done something, but she still hadn't really explained what and Danny was too young to really care about it much beyond thinking at least they will stop picking on her now.
Not that it stopped the tabloids when Steph began dating Cassandra Cain instead, but he thinks there are less scathing comments about them now, in fear of hate crime accusations.
"Yes. I am. But you should already know that I'm dating this guy's sister now, so I'm not a threatâeven if I wasn't, been there, done that." Steph rolls her eyes, handily still tussling with Tim like they're toddlers and not in their, what, late twenties? "Listen, this is important. I expect that text because I am your ally, okay? This family? Fucking nutso. I love them, I do, but there's a reason he hid you from us and I don't blame him."
Danny chuckles at that. "I can imagine. And yet here you areâŠ"
"I don't blame him," Steph grits, bopping Tim on the head and toppling his chair so that the man falls on the ground with a groan, "but I am still mad at him for it because ex status not-withstanding, I am still his best friend last I checked. But that's not your fault soâtext me, okay? I'll give you all the deets that I'm sure this fool has kept from you."
"I'll text you." Danny agrees amiably, as he gets up to help Tim to his feet. Steph beams as Tim sputters.
"Danny, you don'tâ" Tim starts, but Steph bowls him over to give Danny a hug. She leaves just as quickly as she arrived, waving boisterously.
"Welcome to the family, Danny!" Steph yells as she runs away from Tim throwingâŠsomething. A shoe? Danny looks down. Yep. One of Tim's very expensive shoes is missing. Looking back up Steph sticks her tongue out at Tim, before yelling over her shoulder. "And good luck!"
The silence that follows in the wake of Hurricane Stephanie is loud, but peaceful. Danny is weirdly calm now, in the chaos. He's always been good at going with the flow, and he's used to dealing with chaos, so this feels like he's now on solid ground.
It's almost comforting, nostalgic, even. Harking back to the days Sam and him faked it until they made it.
(And then, of course, realized that it would have never worked out long term. That's not the entire story, but it is what it is. It took them years to figure it out, and though it's different now they still love each other and that's all that matters.)
He helps Tim to his seat, before going over to collect the man's shoe. When he comes back, Tim has his head in his hands again, looking like he's aged a million years and is desperately wondering why he hasn't crumbled into dust yet.
"I am," Tim mutters through his fingers, "so very sorry."
Danny huffs a laugh through his nose, smiling as he crouches down to help Tim put his shoe back on. "My offer still stands, if that helps?"
Tim sighs dramatically, hands dropping and looking very downtrodden again. "It does, but only a little bit."
"Ouch." Danny jokes, taking his seat again. "I'll try not take that personally."
"It's nothing against you!" Tim hurriedly rushes out, "I just feel so guilty!"
"Why?" Danny tilts his head, genuinely confused. If anything, this entire situation is being unfair to Tim. It was his family that misunderstood and refused to listen, and even though Tim was just grumbling out of frustration Danny was the one who decided to offer semi-seriously.
"Well, now you're stuck with me. Your boss." Tim reminds Danny, but when he opens his mouth to refute Tim raises a hand to stop him. "I know I'm not technically your boss but there are still lines."
"But it lends credibility." Danny smugly cuts in, throwing Tim's own words back at him almost pettily. Tim eyes Danny, squinting as if he isn't sure what the hell Danny is doing. Which is fair. Danny doesn't really know what he's doing.
"It lends credibility." Tim sighs, agreeing and gracefully letting Danny have the win. He rubs his temple as if staving off a headache. "If we're actually going to do this, we'll have to establish ground rules. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, and I know I can getâŠparticular, so it'd be best to let you know up front so I don't get snippy about it."
"I am all for rules." Danny gives Tim two thumbs up, lamely. "Consent is sexy."
Tim's eyebrow twitches, making Danny afraid he's crossed a line for a moment before he realizes Tim is trying not to laugh. He's biting his lips and looking away from Danny, but he can see the way the corner of Tim's mouth is struggling not to go up.
Danny feels like he could take down his entire ghost menagerie in 3 minutes flat, he's so pumped with serotonin.
"Right. So." Tim coughs, trying to hide his smile. "Maybe a contract, then?"
"The movies never really talk about the actual logistics of being in a fake relationship." Danny thinks aloud, realizing how reckless those movies actually are. But then again, that's part of the fun isn't it? "But I guess from your position it would have to be a necessity."
Tim looks a little apologetic again, a now familiar look that Danny is starting to hate, and doesn't disagree. He starts to gather his things, prompting Danny to do the same as he pulls out his phone. "I'll call us a driver, and we can draft up the contract as I drop you off home."
"Just one thingâ" Danny gently places a hand on Tim's arm, stopping him from moving away or pressing call. "My uh, friends will probably know."
"Know?" Tim's brows scrunch together, and Danny can't really handle how cute his boss is and how embarrassing this is gonna be for him. "Know what?"
"That I offered to be in a fake relationship with you. I was uhm. Kind of joking about Hallmark movies a couple weeks ago?" Danny mumbles, smiling sheepishly. "S'kinda why I had the idea in the first place. Fresh in the mind and all that."
In the end, they decide to write the contract on spare piece of paper found in Tim's briefcase in Danny's shitty little living room.
Tim had veto'd using Danny's laptop and his idea to email Tim a copy, on account of a close family friend apparently being nosy enough to look through his stuff and find it. On that vein, Danny had pointed out that maybe calling a driver hired by his family might also beâŠtelling, so he offered his house as a meeting place.
So they walk together, not quite talking the logistics of it yet for fear of being eavesdropped on (seriously, this brings up a lot of memories with Vlad, and subsequently the years where Jazz and Tucker had religiously kept track of Danny's whereabouts to make sure the creepy old billionaire wouldn't try anything) so they justâŠtalk.
And it's alarmingly easy to talk to Tim.
"So let me get this straight," Danny puts his hands up before him, putting a finger down as he lists names, "Dick is getting married to Cory, Jason is being "chicken shit" withâŠRoy, Barbara is with Kara, Cass and Steph are a thing."
Tim hums, nodding as he keeps his hands in his pockets, smiling at Danny's consternation.
Danny's head is spinning. He passively knows the Waynes, obviously, but never really concerned himself with their significant others. Even the Gotham Gazette only kept up the more public of the Wayne children. Of course, now that they have to establish they're a thing he should at least know the basics about those less public siblings. "Duke is dating Izzy, and Damian is in crush with Jon and vice versa but neither teen knows."
"And Bruce is dating," Tim does a little so-so motion with his hand, making a face that shows how much he is displeased by his father, "but we're still not sure with whoâthere are too many candidates."
"Have you considered that maybe he's not dating any of them?" Danny posits, grinning cheekily at Tim's apparent distress. "That maybe you guys are just sensitive to your old man's friends?"
"Trust me," Tim drawls, unamused and fraught at the same time, "I know what my dad is like when he's actually flirting."
Danny laughs at the disgust Tim's face adopts after that line. It's both hilarious and adorable at the same time. "What if he's dating all of them in some kind of weird polycule type situation? I wouldn't put it past Silver Fox Bruce Wayne to handle all that."
"Never say those words to me ever again." Tim points at Danny threateningly, though a flash of horror and fear goes across his face. "It's terrifying to say that I can't even rule that out. And disgusting."
Danny laughs even harder at that, wiping the tears that spring up from it as he tries to breathe. "Has anyone told you your family is messy?"
"Many times." Tim stresses, making a chopping motion with both hands like some kind of conspiracy theorist. "And the worst part is, this is only the current dating rosterâthere was a point in time when Dick was single but his best friend, coworker, and childhood friend all wanted to date him and he just. Didn't know."
"Dick Grayson," Danny says incredulously, "the Dick Grayson, who has flirted up and down the East and West Coast, and may even be internationally renowned for flirting, didn't know?"
"He thought they were just being nice to him because he was lonely!" Tim gestures, making a face like can you believe this guy???
"Jesus Christ." Danny mutters under his breath, sliding a hand down his face before a thought suddenly occurs to him. "Which one is he getting married to? It's one of the three, right?"
"The co-worker." Tim nods, flapping a hand carelessly. "But she's technically also one of his best friends, and is also a childhood friend. It's complicated."
Danny thinks about the A-listers, who have made amends with Danny long ago. He thinks about Wes, who still sends him a paper copy of Amity Park's newsletter, because he knows Danny loves the little column his old friend does breaking down government conspiracies in his down time from the Daily Planet.
He thinks about Lancer, who has done so much for Danny that it would be rude not to at least consider him a friend, or maybe even a weird uncle. He thinks about Sam and Val, of whom he still considers one of his best friends and a childhood friend, respectively, despite being his exes.
Complicated sounds just about right.
"Her name's Cory, right?" Danny asks, as they finally arrive at his apartment. "Like Boy Meets World?"
"No, it's with a K. And an I." Tim nods, watching Danny unlock the door and stepping in after him. "K-O-R-I."
Danny hums in acknowledgement, taking off his shoes and hanging his stuff by the door. He holds out his hands to take Tim's coat as well, though the other man refuses to give up his scarf. Danny turns up the heat in his apartment in response, leading his guest to the living room before making his way to the kitchen to make warm up some water.
Once they've settled in with cups of coffee, they get straight down to business.
The idea is simple: keep to as many truths as possible, and as little lies as can humanly be done.
The more lies there are, the higher the chance of something going astronomically wrong. Danny knows this from experience, and he firmly believes that Tim feels the same way with all the articles that's been released about his family.
"I mean," Tim straightens the briefcase that he's been using as a makeshift desk on his lap, "I feel like that covers all the bases right?"
"Uhm, let's seeâŠ" Danny shakes his head to get it back on track and recalling their story. "We've mostly been in a situationship for like, a year and you've been cagey and I wasn't looking for anything serious anyway so it worked for us."
"Which I'm very sorry about, and will probably be the reason we break up." Tim adds in, taking a sip of the crappy instant coffee Danny had in his cupboard.
"One of them anyway," Danny waves away, "the other being my terrible fear of commitmentâhence, the keeping it casual thing."
"So we've been doing this sort of romantic will they won't they, when Steph decides to come in all dramatic," Tim rolls his eyes, huffing, "which then, of course, pushes us firmly into the guess we're doing it now stage."
"Well, it's more like we've been doing it and nothing else until now, right?" Danny blithely jokes into his coffee, before freezing when his own words registers into his brain.
A quick glance at his Not-Boss has Tim determinedly staring straight into his coffee with red crawling up his neck. Danny mumbles an apology, wincing at himself.
This cover story has the added benefit of guilt tripping his family enough that they won't pester Danny too much, considering it's their meddling that making Danny suddenly jump into the deep end of a long term, serious relationship and therefore is making Danny feel "very very unnerved". Especially when he was supposedly under the impression that Tim was gun-shy about another relationship after his break up with Bernard Dowd, Tim's most recent ex.
It puts Danny in a certain kind of light, but he doesn't mind.
Tim doesn't know that Danny has played this kind of chicken before, when he was 14 and played "we're just friends" with Sam for three years. Senior year was a bit of a shit show, with Val dominating his Junior year, but they all worked it out in the end.
Even if Sam and Danny didn't make it past the halfway mark through college, he doesn't regret it. She's still one of his best friends in the entire world and beyond, and that's all that matters. He and Val still spar on occasion too, on good terms and everything.
The point is, even if Tim is doubtful of Danny being the kind of guy who's okay with a long situationship, Danny's been there. So he is, actually, that kind of guy.
The kind of guy who is sort of shy about commitment even though he's very open about his feelings.
You wouldn't think it because of the way affection flowers like waterfalls between them, but that's exactly what led to Danny moving to Gothamâto Jazz going to Chicago, to the siblings choosing to go by Nightingale and deciding that obsession in humans can be dangerous.
And Danny and Jazz, more than anyone, know that moderation is needed.
Which means, at the end of the day, Danny is in factâŠafraid of commitment.
He's just not sure how to convey all of that without actually admitting to anything, and now he's gone a put his foot in his mouth and tangentially hit on his boss. Hit on might be the wrong phraseâimplied past relations? Joked about being in a non-existent fake sexual situationship? His brain might be melting.
Thankfully, after a moment Tim clears his throat, keeping his eyes closed as if trying to ignore his own embarrassment. "No, no. You're right. My family knows I tend to cope with stress using physical activities. Normally that would be skateboarding or, well, my family's tendency towards extreme sports butâŠthis would work just as well."
Danny feels a kind of hunger flash over him, mouth suddenly feeling very dry. He licks his lips in an attempt to wet them, before hastily sipping his coffee again to cover that up. The still hot liquid jolts his system enough to get his brain back on track.
"Right. So." This time, Danny coughs to clear his throat. "There's no un-awkward way of asking this of you, but what's your stance on PDA?"
Tim grimaces, scrunching his still closed eyes for a moment. He blows out a breath and it's like suddenly Tim's entire countenance relaxes into a practiced pose: legs crossing after he places his mug of subpar coffee onto the table, adjusting himself so that his briefcase is set to the side and the scrap papers he'd been drafting their contract on are held carelessly in his hand.
If Danny didn't see it happening real time he would have thought Tim was unaffected but since he did, it reeks of putting on a mask for the sake of comfort.
"I am, historically, not very touchy feely," Tim sighs, papers drooping in sync as he reluctantly confesses to Danny his preferences. "But also historically, all of my significant others tend to be. IâŠlike being touched."
Somewhere in the back of Danny's mind, victory music and an imaginary crowd of other Dannies are cheering. Blaring in the forefront of Danny's mind all he can think is how fucked he is, and not even in the fun way.
"That's great!" Danny tries not to sound eager, and feels like he's failing terribly. He stutters a bit in an attempt to calm himself down as he rambles. "I mean uh, I'm known to be touchy feely even platonically soâŠno problems here, perfect, even. Coincidentally."
Danny winces. Way to sound totally normal, Nightingale.
Tim scrutinizes Danny for a moment, eying the way he fidgets. Danny feels a cold sweat roll down his spine as the other man's eyes squint a little.
Danny breaks.
"IâŠrun cold." Danny smiles sheepishly, confessing at least one truth in exchange for Tim's. "So I really like body heat. Others', I mean. Sorry if I sound so weirdly excitedâI haven't seen any of my loved ones for a while on account of living so far away and being so busy. I don't have a lot of friends here that I can be, uhm, tactile with."
A moment later, Danny realizes something terrible and hastily tries once more to reassure the other man. "Not thatâI will of course try to be very respectful of your boundaries! Likeâwe can just, hold hands?"
"Holding hands. Right." The line of Tim's shoulders relax, ever so slightly, and Danny feels like he's passed some kind of test by the skin of his teeth. It does seem like it all weirdly falls into place, which makes everything feel so suspicious.
With Tim's celebrity status, Danny wouldn't be surprised if the other man thought this was all planned by Danny in some sort of elaborate stalker move. He's sure weirder shit has happened to the Waynes, which is both sad and interesting.
Sad because nobody should have to deal with that kind of paranoia their entire lives, and interesting becauseâŠwell. Danny's life, after all, isn't all rainbows and daisies either. It's far from boring, evenânobody can argue that Danny's life out of context isn't batshit crazy.
He doubts Tim's got a secret vigilante life or a weird obsessive Bad Guy that wants to take him under his wing. He probably has never had to deal with beating up his own evil future self, or siblings trying to kill him or hellâparents that want to kill his alter ego.
Yeah, Danny's definitely still got the trophy on "Strangest Life Ever" even despite the shenanigans he's heard rich people can get up to from Sam, for sure.
Tim snaps the drooping piece of paper into stiffness, yanking Danny's wayward thoughts back into line as the other man slides his briefcase back onto his lap to write additions into the contract.
"So. PDA will be subject to circumstance but, I give you permission to touch me." Tim says gamely, though a little bit of that telling red starts crawling up his neck again, past the collar of his shirt in what is probably embarrassment. "I generally keep to hand holding on my part, but I won't mind an arm around my shoulder orâŠwell, a codeword should be handy in any case."
"Like a safeword?" Danny tilts his head, watching as Tim's handwriting stutters for a moment.
Tim coughs, and continues writing. "Yes. I'm open to suggestions."
"Pineapple?" Danny hums, weirdly mesmerized by how messy the CEO's handwriting actually is. "Myrrh?"
"Myrrh?" Tim's pretty blue eyes flicker up to Danny in confusion.
"Like, Mur-der?" Danny grins. Tim stares at Danny for a moment, unblinking, before sighing.
"Update," Tim drawls, taking out his phone to check what looks like an over-packed calendar. "I am not as open to suggestions as I thought I was."
"Boo, hiss." Danny laughs. "Where's your sense of whimsy, Mr. Drake? Your wonder and borderline fanaticism of the hit 2006 TV show Psyche?"
"Are you Shawn in this situation," Tim raises an eyebrow, quickly tapping on his phone with one hand and writing down dates and times in the other, "Or Gus?"
"I'm obviously Shawn," Danny is almost offended he even has to ask, actually. "Which makes you Sh'Dynasty."
"How do you spell that again? No wait," Tim puts away his phone with a small little smile that makes Danny's insides go all tingly, "I remember, S-H, comma to the top, Dynasty?"
"That's a God's comma, Tim." Danny concurs, flicking a two fingered salute. "Put some respect on it."
There's a beat.
And then Tim smiles like he can't help it and laughs.
It's a very nice laugh. It's so nice, it makes Tim look so much younger, more his age. It makes Tim look real and human and Danny has been clinging to half his humanity since he was fourteen.
Seeing someone light up, look so alive? Looking boyish and sweet in a three piece suit more expensive than his parents entire house and lab, crystalline blue eyes sparkling like diamond rings, it makes this whole charade feel tooâŠ
Too fake, too far, tooâwistful. Because Danny? Danny might be more fucked than he thought he was.
When the laughter dies down, Danny quietly freaking out with the kind of acting that should be on Broadway, Tim gets back into business.
The CEO slides the paper towards Danny, spinning it on the coffee table so that it faces him, and leans back to sip at his coffee again.
Danny, with thoughts racing around trying to grab attention, reads through it with an iron grip on his focus.
The contract itself is very simple in terms, and lays out all the basics in Tim's surprisingly messy handwriting.
The first chunk is a basic outline of their cover story, with a small section listing a couple of incidents and dates where Danny and Tim could have met and started their so-called relationship. Each part has a little tick box for Danny to check and, presumably, choose which is best.
In the second chunk, boundaries are bullet pointed with room to add more and a small rectangular box has been outlined to highlight a future safeword or phrase that has yet to be filled in. Closer inspection shows Tim has listed a few body parts that are definite No's in public, and what looks like a space for Danny to fill in himself.
The third chunk is really just a paragraph outlining that their relationship is subject to change at any given day depending on the circumstances. Anything can be discussed freely and without judgement, and can be subject to longer conversations to be had in the future in the guise of "whispered nothings" and can be had during, as the contract states, meetings heretofore referred to as "dates."
And finally, at the bottom of the pages is a list of calendar days that Danny can choose from for the next two months for said dates. It'sâŠa lot of days. Tim's even drawn a rudimentary calendar for months, though it's a little squished. It looks like he even marked the time of day those free days are availableâM, A, and E standing for Morning, Afternoon and Evening according to the little key Tim's drawn at the bottom.
As he reads, Danny fills each part out, ticking and marking and listing his own no-no's in the right places. He leaves the safeword box blank, and pulls out his own phone to compare and add the dates into his own schedule and calendar.
The entire time, Danny's thoughts spin like a tornado around him as he sits in the eye and goes through the contract. Part way through, Tim slides over a typed paper that seems to be a simple NDA.
Danny didn't even know NDAs could be so simple. He doesn't even really want to think about why Tim goes around with a prepared one in the first place.
When all is said and done, his calendar is full, and the contract is 99% filled out.
They can figure out the safeword later, but at the very bottomâŠ
Danny stares at the unevenly drawn dotted line where he's supposed to sign his name and for the first time since he blurted out his offer, hesitates.
Because what the hell is he thinking?
But he knows the answer to that already: he isn't. He's not thinking at all.
But he's thinking now. The contract in his hands forces him to.
He made a joke, and now he's in a situation that may or may not kind of ruin him.
But, like much of his half-life, it is too lateâDanny is already halfway in with no real way of coming back out without turning into an evil version of himself that destroys not only the Justice League, but the entire world.
Danny may or may not be entirely too dramatic for a crush gone rogue on his boss, but in this moment he feels it matches the vibe.
(Seriously though, cheating on one test destroys the world? Only Danny's life could be so fucked up, really.)
It's just that, with an almost complete contract in his hand, it suddenly feels like a lot, is what Danny is trying to get at.
Because of courseâof course, Danny's brain decides to finally focus on the tornado around him.
He can hear Tim's soft breathing, the occasional sip of coffee he takes that is no doubt just for show because that coffee cannot still be warm at this point.
And the fact that that is cute to Danny? The fact that Danny finds this man's thoroughness in a contract for a fake relationship utterly endearing? Means that Danny just has to face the truth.
Danny has a capital C, possibly all CAPS, CRUSH on Timothy Drake-Wayne.
It's kind of fucking dire.
Like he finally understands what the hell Tucker was going on aboutâhe barely knew Tim beyond magazine covers one week ago. Eavesdropped on two conversationsâonly had one and half with the man himself.
And yes, Timothy Drake-Wayne is obviously hot, but one laugh and Danny's fucking gone?
That's insane. Like, Vlad's obsession with Danny's mom kind of insane.
Actually, Danny is dismayed to realize, it's even worse because Vlad knew his mom for at least a semester, probably even longer before he became obsessed. And, he begrudgingly adds to himself, being a Halfa ups the insanity to ghost standards really fucking easily so it's not even surprising that he did.
Danny is in his thirtiesâhe's been a Halfa for more than half his life. He has got get a fucking grip.
He will not make Vlad's fucking mistakes even if it will kill him. He can still come back from this if he leaves now.
"We can still come back from this, you know." Tim offhandedly offers, as if he can read Danny's fucking mind. "We can forget this whole thing, maybe even stage a break up now if it gets too crazy. Because it will get crazy, with my family."
Danny stares at Tim over the contract, hand still poised to sign.
"I wouldn't blame you." Tim continues, looking for all the world calm and collected as he meets Danny's gaze sincerely. "I've said crazier shit, offered crazier things that I didn't really mean, or regretted a second later. I get it."
And the worst part of it is that this is way more reasonable. Staging a break up now, instead of after attending to a wedding and pretending to be dating for at least 2 and a half months, makes way more sense.
When was the last time you had fun?
"Thanks." Danny smiles softly, ignoring the erratic beating of his heart and the voice in the back of his head that insists this isn't what Jazz meant. "But I'm actually looking forward to it, you know? Remember, I've always wanted to be part of a Hallmark movie."
Tim laughs, soft this time. It's no less devastating than the other laugh that tilted Danny's world on its axis, but it at least softens to blow.
Danny's certainly done stupider shit in his life, and hey, maybe if this really is a Hallmark movie it'll all work out.
Danny inwardly scoffs. The likelihood of Tim falling for Danny is zero to none butâŠbad idea or not, he knows he'll at least have fun with it.
this chapter has chats and coding involved, which is best viewed here on AO3! I have, however, taken screen shots below to do a janky version on tumblr below the cut
This and the next chapter has somehow become a giant 10 artist collab, featuring a number of my friends from @haunting-heroes-creative-games (HHD Server)! credits will be given below the cut as well, so as not to spoil!
Danny's day as a newly minted fake boyfriend starts simple: with an explosion and a frosty gust of wind during his daily commute to work.
Screams start to fill the air as people run past him to get away fromâŠsomething. Judging by the familiar crackle of ice, that something is actually a someone Danny is very familiar with.
"Hey Victor!" Danny yells above the din, hand cupping his mouth to try and be heard, "Whatcha got there, bud?"
Victor (or more accurately Mr. Freeze at the moment) well, freezes at the sound of Danny's voice. "Danny? My boy, what are you doing here?"
Danny lifts up his to go cup and jabs a thumb to his right, where his favorite coffee shop is. "Getting coffee before work."
"Ah, yes." Victor nods sagely, "the ambrosia of life. I trust you are not drinking too much of it as to be detrimental to your health?"
Danny puts up three fingers in a mock scout's salute. "Promise, I'm taking care of my health."
Victor seems to accept that, holstering what looks like a signature freeze gun. The streets are partially frozen solid, there are even a few men here or there frozen to the asphalt struggling to get free.
Danny sighs. "So what's all this about?"
The rogue shifts uncomfortably. "Nothing, nothing my dear boy. Nothing for you to worry about."
"VictorâŠ" Danny starts, before he realizes he's not sure how to finish his sentence.
He'd thought they'd been over thisâDanny's no Jazz, but he thought Victor was doing better. Ever since Nora had disappeared, there should have been no reason for Victor to go wild like this.
The man mainly went rogue to try and cure his wife, after all. Even if said wife went rogue herself upon waking and immediately absconded. Sure, that really freaking sucks, but theoretically Victor should be focusing on recovery and getting his own body back into equilibrium, rather than more rogue attacks.
Though, Danny supposes, this might be a heartbreak rogue attack. Nora is a touchy subject in Gotham, still fresh. Mr. Freeze seems to be doing his thing, so maybe Danny should take this at face value. It's not his business, and he's never met the woman either. Victor doesn't talk about her, so Danny won't.
The trouble with this revelation is that now it's even more important Danny figure out how to finish his sentence.
"Victor," Danny tries again, "Are you alright?"
Victor seems to slump at that, but doesn't answer. That in and of itself is an answer, of course, but it doesn't make Danny feel any good about the silence that descends upon them.
Thankfully, a hero in many different meanings jumps to their rescue.
"Mr. Freeze!" A husky voice calls out, Gotham's one and only day time vigilante rolling onto the scene on that sleek motorbike of his. He drifts to a stop, confused, when he sees Danny and Victor just standing there, doing nothing. "Uh. I was going to say cease and desist, but I see that you'veâŠkind of already done that?"
"Yes, yes." Victor flaps a hand, tiredly. "I was just. Acting out, I suppose. Old habits die hard, don't they my boy?"
"That's true." Danny agrees amiably, relaxing. "Maybe next time try drinking your sorrows away?"
"Alcoholism is an ever rising epidemic on our world." Victor sniffs, before slumping again. "But I suppose you're right. Will you be taking me away, Signal?"
"UhâŠno?" Signal scratches his neck, "If you uh, promise to head home, I guess? I'm not the cops."
"How about we grab dinner after I'm done with work, Victor?" Danny soothingly offers, "I can text you?"
"Of course, of course." Victor smiles, walking over to pat Danny on the head. This makes a hilarious tableau, considering Danny is a good couple inches taller. "Let me know, there is a nice Italian place nearbyâŠ"
Victor makes his swift retreat then, and now a different kind of silence descends upon the streets as Danny makes his way over to the trapped men and starts to thaw them out using his ice powers.
"You're a meta?" Signal asks, as he follows Danny during the process. "Ice powers?"
"Minor." Danny shrugs, he and his sister long having this cover story in their pocket. "I can cool down coffee, or thaw out small chunks of ice. Like this."
Danny thaws out the last person, before dusting himself off. "I'm sorry about Victor. He's beenâŠ"
"Heartbroken." Signal finishes when Danny trails off. "Yeah, we know. I'm uh, glad he has you though?"
"I jammed his ice gun a year back." Danny laughs weakly. "And long story short, my sister's a therapist and I'm kind of nosey and yappy. We exchanged Discords."
Signal whistles. "Not sure how we didn't hear about it before, but as long as it keeps him off the streets it's not any of our business."
"A nice, refreshing take." Danny smiles, "Cops back home would have arrested him anyway."
"I'm a vigilante, not a hero." Signal shrugs, as sirens start to sound, "And that's my cue. See ya, dude!"
"Bye!" Danny waves, as Signal disappears in a cloud of exhaust smoke. He sighs for a moment, before turning to head to work.
And then, of course, he slips on some melted ice and spills his coffee.
No coffee, and he's late for work. Great.
Danny's squinting at his laptop, bored out of his damn mind and feeling like he's going insane because that was definitely a three in this box earlier, when the soft tak of a paper cup is set beside him.
Warmth hovers behind his back, an arm reaching over his shoulder as it leans on the table beside the cup that was just placedâanother to-go cup from his favorite coffee shop with what smells like hot chocolate steaming from inside it. Following the arm has Danny leaning back, tilting his head up to meet a truly lovely and handsome face.
Aware that it is suddenly very quiet around the lab, with eyes all around staring holes into his and Tim's backs, Danny quietly smiles. "Good morning,"
That lovely red blush starts to creep from beneath Tim's collar as he clearly makes the effort to keep eye contact with Danny. They didn't really talk about PDA beyond Tim's family, but if Tim wants to carry the ruse to the rest of WE he wouldn't mind.
"Morning," Tim shyly mumbles, pausing for a moment before determinedly tacking on a soft, "Babe."
This is Tim, clearly, making a statement. And when Tim tilts a little, practically begging for a morning greeting well, who is Danny to deny him? It's in the contract after all. He leans up, and places a soft kiss on Tim's cheek.
Danny tries to calm his heart from beating out his chest as he focuses on other things, tapping at the hot chocolate. "Is this for me?"
"Since you had a bit of a busy morningâŠ" Tim nods, pulling away and turning to lean against Danny's desk on his left hand side. "I was worried."
Tim's warmth shifting away leaves Danny a bit bereft, which distracts him for a moment from Tim's words. When he finally registers them, Danny has to take a deep breath.
Danny's gotta hand it to Tim, he's a very good actor. Danny is beside himself because shit, this is very thoughtful of Tim, and Tim would make a really nice boyfriend. A real one, that is, and Danny wants to be a good boyfriend back, even if it's fake.
Think, Danny. What would a real boyfriend do?
He reaches up slowly, taking Tim's hands into his own and leaning closer as he looks up at Tim with what he hopes is reassuring eyes. "I'm fine, safe and sound. See?"
Tim twitches, inhaling slowly before letting it go. The other man's hands slide up his arms, one hand gripping his forearm and the other traveling lightly to Danny's chest. His entire countenance slumps in relief, and even though Danny knows this is all fake, it feels real.
Tim leans in, as if to reassure himself, and Danny is lost to the feeling of it. Lost to warmth getting back into his orbit again, to the scent of the manâsandalwood and leather and other things Danny can't name.
And then Tim's breath ghosts over his ear, and reality begins crashing down again. "Your pulse is irregular, is this something I should know about?"
Danny blinks, frozen for a moment before a gasp from somewhere behind Tim reminds Danny that they aren't alone. He leans in, voice low for just them, "I have a heart condition, nothing seriousâjust arrhythmia from an incident when I was younger."
Tim nods, imperceptibly, before jolting and sitting up quickly when a small clatter informs them that the room at large is definitely watching.
Tim clears his throat, as if embarrassed, before pouting adorably. "You never told me you knew Mr. Freeze."
Danny blinks, a little off kilter by the cutest CEO to ever grace his workspace. "I, uh. Well you know how I have those minor ice powers?"
Tim gives him a look, squeezing his arm in a way that not only reminds Danny that Tim is still holding onto him, but also that Tim did not in fact, know this about Danny. Oops.
But Tim hums as if he does know, and so Danny powers on, sweaty and terribly apologetic and trying not to show it. "So uh, Iâhm."
"You�" Tim encourages, letting Danny go to cross his arms and wait him out. Which is not what Danny wanted at all, but he will consider it punishment.
Danny winces, shoulders coming up to his ears. "I jammed his gun once, and the rest is history?"
There's a long pause before Tim chuckles, granting Danny a soft smile he wishes were real. "Right. Of course, because that totally makes sense."
Danny sheepishly smiles up at him. "Well, I meanâit's not like you're any stranger to rogue attacks right?"
Tim huffs, shaking his head. "Fine, fine. Just because you're rightâ"
"A rare occurrence with a genius boyfriend, I knowâ" Danny can't help but laugh, Tim blinking before blushing again.
"You're one to talk." Tim grumbles, once again pouting in the most adorable fashion. A phone rings, Tim suddenly switching back to 'work mode.'
A short conversation later, and Tim has to apologetically whisper at Danny as he covers the receiver to his phone. "Gotta go, text me?"
"As soon as I'm heading home." Danny agrees, and even if Tim is just saying that for appearances he definitely will.
Tim had assured Danny that he didn't actually need to text Tim on a daily basis, he could just report whatever he thought was necessary for Tim to know, but Danny is determined to come out of this with some conversation with the man. The conversations they've already had at least prove it to be a promising endeavor.
If Danny's gonna end up alone at the end of this anyway, he might as well milk the companionship as much as he can.
(And if he distantly dreams that maybe Danny could be charming enough to actually romance Tim, then that's between him and Nocturne.)
Tim bites his lips, smiling a little bit before glancing around. He leans down once more, moving so the phone is not in the way, and Danny knows this now, he's learned.
He leans up and gives Tim another kiss on the cheek, soft as he can manage it, with Tim leaving one on Danny's cheek in exchange.
He might be imagining it, but he thinks maybe Tim shivers a bit at the touch. But before he can really process it, Tim is already out the door with a sad little smile and a wave as he continues to speak lowly into his phone.
There's a moment where Danny stares at the now empty doorway, forlorn, with a tingley cheek and an erratically beating heart.
Then one of his coworkers, Anania, slams a hand on his desk.
"What the hell was that, Nightingale?"
And just like that, the floodgates have opened and the rest of his coworkers descend like a pack of hyenas. Danny grimaces, and resolves himself to a very torturous work day full of questions and powerpoint headaches.
He just needs to survive the rest of the day, and then he can go drink with Victorâhe's at least got that going for him.
(And if his lips and cheek tingle throughout the day, that's another secret between him and Nocturne.)
Danny has a hangover.
It is actively bullshit that he can heal from literally any injury barring the involvement of blood blossoms and ectoranium when he's Phantom, but six shots of tequila and maybe half a bottle of rum and he feels like Death Thrice Over.
He should never have gone so hard, he was only supposed to be there for Victor, not get drunk with Victor. And Pamela, and Harley, and there was a moment where Penguin came down specifically to laugh at themâ
Danny's head pounds, and he groans into his hands.
When he texted Tim about it last night, the other man made some sympathetic overtures but a part of Danny suspects that Tim was definitely laughing at his situation.
Danny's not sure if it's better that he didn't laugh at him for eight minutes straight like Sam and Tuck did, or if it's worse because that means they aren't that close yet.
Either way the mortification upon waking was terrible and devastating.
Then again, Tim worrying about Danny's hangover during their good morning text exchange was really nice.
Tim is really nice. The good morning text in and of itself was a pleasant surprise, and is the only reason Danny is even existing right now, actually.
Danny has chosen one of the smaller conference rooms as his base of operations today. He's fruitlessly trying to get this powerpoint in order again, but someone's changed a bunch of the numbers and it's not adding up anymore.
He heavily suspects it's Maisie, but Danny can't prove it yet. She keeps insisting the equations are wrong, even though they are correct, and he thinks that maybe she's been substituting her equations in and fucking everything up. But the hangover is making the numbers all wibbly wobbly right now so he might just give up and head to the lab to tinker with some other projects instead.
Retribution on Maisie will just have to wait another day, when hell isn't banging around inside his head.
"As expected," An unfamiliar voice tsks from beside Danny, "Timothy has poor taste in paramours."
Danny jolts, blearily looking up at a childâno, a teenager sniffing his nose up at him. He didn't even hear the door open, nor any footsteps.
The teenager is familiar, but it takes him a moment to realize whyâDamian Wayne is one of the more public Wayne children but either due to his age or impeccable upbringing doesn't make the headlines all the much. Not right now, anyway.
When he had first been brought onto the social scene, the tabloids had a field day about himâabout his mother's origins and the supposed combative behavior the boy had in response to the other socialites and reporters on the scene.
If you ask Danny, little Damian should have been more violent. With what they were saying about him, about his mom before they even met him? Yeah, Danny would have stabbed a guy or three too.
"I would say I'm offended," Danny wipes a hand down his face, "but I am also not sure why your brother chose meâbelieve me, I count my blessings all the time."
Damian seems a little thrown off by that, probably expecting some kind of push back.
He'll be disappointed in more ways than one, if that's the case.
"I have heard you are afraid of commitment." Damian tries again, and jeez, this kid is as blunt as they say.
"I am." Danny agrees, smiling a little ruefully up at the kid. "But even I'm not dumb enough to squander a chance I've been given."
"At the risk of sounding like an absolute asshole," Danny sighs, leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling. "Your brother is like, adorable to an illegal extent. Plus he's funny and smart? Come onâI had no chance."
"âŠI fail to see why this makes you anâŠ" Damian pauses, and when Danny glances at the boy it looks like he's unhappy he's about to say something distasteful, "absolute asshole."
"Well, if I were in your position," Danny smirks, "I wouldn't want to hear how attractive my sibling is."
Damian takes a moment to think about that, seeming to consider Danny's words and the situation. From Danny's position, the boy might be trying to give Danny a shovel talk.
Jokes on him, Danny's grave is a metal portal that's been permanently shut down. No shovels involved.
"My parents are exceedingly attractive." Damian finally says, looking perplexed. "My siblings as well. It is of no consequence to state a fact that I am very familiar with."
"âŠMaybe it's different," Danny smiles, "you're a teen heart-throb yourself, aren't you?"
Damian blushes, hard to see due to the teen's dark skin but definitely there in the tips of his ears. Adorable must run in this family, seriously. "If you are implying you are not attractive, I am sure my brother will beg to differ."
"Sure," Danny shrugs, reaching up to ruffle Damian's spikey hair. Miracle upon miracles, the boy does not stab him for it. "But I'm hardly front page cover status. Don't worry little man, I know where I stand."
Danny laughs a bit, self deprecatingly. He knows he's not ugly, but seriously, Danny isn't all that.
But Damian must not like that joke, because he scrunches up his face in clear reluctance. "Perhaps, but you are worthy of being Timothy's wallpaper."
Danny's brain screeches to a stop. "âŠCome again?"
"His wallpaper." Damian says slowly, as if Danny is dumb. Which is fair, because he feels dumb right now. "There is a picture of you on his cellphone. You are shirtless."
"Iâ" Danny blinks, a little thrown off. Because what. But now is not the time for that, now is the time to keep their cover, "I didn't know he made it his wallpaper."
Thankfully, all those years of hiding his ghost side from his parents have paid off. Because Danny didn't know Tim had a picture to make his wallpaper in the first place, much less a shirtless one, and they would be fucked if Damian found that out.
Did Danny send him drunk shirtless selfies? He doesn't remember doing so, but he wouldn't put it past himself. He's never been the type to forget what he does when he's drunk though, and he's never gotten blackout drunk before.
Whether due to his original constitution or his powers making it so, Danny's actually pretty strong when it comes to alcohol. The aftermath is brutal, of course, but it's not like fast healing will solve a hangover. Danny's got a fast metabolism and supernatural musclesâthat doesn't exactly extend to his body creating water in order to combat dehydration.
He knows, he's asked Frostbite about it before.
"Well now you are aware," Damian crosses his arms again, smirking like he's finally found solid ground. "He has many photos of you. It is embarrassing how much, actually."
He's probably decided if he can't give Danny a shovel talk, he can at least embarrass his brother. Which is fairâas a little brother himself he understands completely.
Still, it doesn't make Danny's panic go away. He definitely did not send Tim drunk selfies, right? No, but he would have seen the history when he texted with Tim this morning, surely? Then again, Danny's never been good in the mornings, and he wouldn't put it past Drunk Danny not to delete it.
Much as Danny is aware of his drunken escapades, that doesn't mean he and Drunk Danny are friends. That guy is a complete and total dumbassâDanny's never been good with his impulses and Drunk Danny is even worse.
Seriously, 'babe would you consider turnign off autocorecct fr me'???? Danny is livid with his past drunken self.
Danny's hand twitches, wanting to check his phone immediately. If he did send Tim an abundance of drunk selfies, he hopes they were good ones. One of them must be, if Tim deemed it good enough to make it his wallpaper. Danny tries to remember when the last time he went to the gym was.
Wait, that's irrelevantâDanny has supernatural muscles. But Danny's not exactly skinny like he was in high school. He's firmly taken after Jack, and though he isn't as buff as Dan is he's prettyâŠup there. What if Tim doesn't like that? Supernatural muscles aside, it's not like he has a six pack or anythingâhe's just a little on the stockier side, what did Ellie call it? A dad bod?
Shit, Ellie is his cloneâis he technically a dad? But they decided on siblings andâ
Thankfully before he can spiral any further, a loud banging sound smacks him straight back to Earth, where Damian Wayne is looking at him way too closely for his comfort and his headache is getting kind of worse about it.
When he looks over, Tim is there at the door huffing and puffing and looking irritated beyond belief.
"Dami!" Tim looks a little distraught, like that time when Hurricane Steph plunged them into this facade in the first place. Distantly, Danny thinks that maybe he has this expression exclusively for his family. "I told you not to bother him at work."
"Tt." Damian clicks his tongue, looking less than impressed. "Did you, or did you not bother him at work just yesterday?"
"Yeah, but I am his boyfriend." Tim scrunches his nose at Damian in the cutest way possible as he makes his way to them. "And you are just a random teenager."
And then Tim turns to Danny, smiling the smile of angels and Danny's brain kind of goes mush. "Hi, Danny."
He reaches up to hook his arms over Danny's shoulders, and Danny is helpless but to stand up and bend down to return the hug. "Hi, Tim."
"Don't freak out." Tim whispers into his ear, and this is good, this is easy for Danny.
It's hard to freak out when you have an armful of hot fake boyfriend and you're actually expected to make it look good. So he does as he's bid and doesn't freak out and squeezes Tim like he's missed him and hasn't seen him in ages even though they just saw each other yesterday.
This is also easy, because Danny is easy and he did actually miss Tim.
He wraps his arms around Tim's waist, burying his face into the crook of his fake boyfriend's neck and breathes in. Tim has a different cologne on, this time of something musky and light, so Danny tries to focus on that instead of his headache. Tim squeezes a little bit in response, the arms around Danny's neck a solid reminder that life surrounds him and grounds him in turn.
Who knew a hug could cure a hangover so effectively? Danny didn'tâhe feels like there should be a powerpoint for this discovery, actually, instead of his own dumb project about water filtration systems.
Like, sure, it mostly solves the whole danger from poison in the watering well issue Gotham constantly has, but hugs from hot men curing hangovers? That's where it's at.
"What am I not freaking out about?" Danny mumbles into Tim's neck, feeling the man in his arms shiver a little. "The pictures, or your family coming to accost me?"
This time, Tim flinches a little. When he pulls back a little he gives Danny a sheepish little smile. "âŠBoth?"
Danny chuckles, but recognizes this is definitely not the time or place. Damian is tapping his foot impatiently and adamantly looking the other way as if they are doing something scandalous.
Tim steps away, but Danny doesn't let him get far. He sits back down so that the two Waynes don't have to look up at him, hooking an arm around Tim's waist and pulling him closer. He had only meant to convey intimacy, but Tim takes it a step further and leans into Danny, draping an arm across Danny's shoulders to balance himself a little.
A little pang runs through Danny, as he realizes it must be his body remembering what he'd done with his exes. Danny's not really a jealous guy, Tim's past is his past, but it does remind Danny very bluntly that this is all fake.
It kind of hurts how natural Tim feels in Danny's arms. But he's determined to make the most of it so he places that aside for later.
"Are you happy now, you little gremlin?" Tim glares as Damian.
Damian takes a moment to examine them, and presumably their comfort and ease with each other. Danny tries not to hold his breathâhe doesn't actually need to breathe even as a human, but it's habit now and would be suspicious if he didn't.
"I suppose he is adequate." Damian sniffs, turning around and leaving without so much as a goodbye. "But I withhold the right to rescind that should he beâŠlacking in any way."
Tim sighs, leaning his head on Danny's for just a moment before straightening up and leaving his orbit entirely.
Danny feels bereft, seriously.
"Sorry about this. I probably should deal with that beforeâ" Tim rakes a hand through his hair, not finishing the thought and blowing out air in exasperation. "I'll text you, explain everything later, okay?"
"Of course, don't worry about it." Danny reassures, because even if he's confused at least this gives Danny an excuse to talk to Tim more. "Text me later."
"Thanks." Tim hurriedly says, pressing a quick kiss to his temple and rushing out after Damian. "Feel better, I left some headache meds by the coffee!"
Danny blinks, feeling warm where Tim's lips just were. When he glances down, there is indeed two little pills right next to the cup of coffee Damian brought him.
He stares at them for a moment before giving up and resigning himself to the tender mercies of his hangover.
He takes the pills and prays for strengthâhe has a feeling this won't be the last of the Wayne's he'll see.
FEATURED ART:
Danny's pfp: @phantomfen
Tim's pfp and Coffee on Street: @belfry-ghost
Shirtless Danny: @clockwaysarts
Another chapter with chats and coding involved, best viewed on AO3 (linked above!), so it will once again be under the cut!
The updated artist count is now ELEVEN, which is seriously crazy. I love my friends so much and am very thankful for them!!!
I have compiled a full list of the art being used in this and the previous chapter, which you can check out here! It should have blown up vers of the pfps, with artists and any links/full sized pieces listed as well!
Jason knows Tim is plotting something.
Jason knows it to the very core of himâTim is up to something.
Listen. Jason doesn't want to kill the kid anymore, but that doesn't mean he doesn't hold some kind of big ass grain of salt when Tim says something is totally kosher.
When Jason had apologized to Tim for trying to kill him at Titan's Tower, he sincerely meant itâit wasn't fair, after all, considering Bruce was the one who replaced him. It wasn't fair for Jason to put all this homicidal rage at a kid just trying to help, to use the kid as a tool to help Batman see the error of his ways in appointing child soldiers.
So yeah, he manned up. He apologized, and he meant it. Did some soul searching and everything.
That is, until he found out Tim inserted himself into the job. Then that trusty homicidal rage came pouring back in, because what the fuck, man?
Was it better in the long run? Sure, you can't really picture Gotham without a Robin running around after all. Did it set precedent?
Well, let's see. There's Steph, with her home made costume. There's Duke, with the whole street gang war thing.
âŠYeah. It set fucking precedent. And Jason's still fucking mad about it.
Damian, at least, Jason will own up to. Jason had a hand in raising the tyke after all, mad with pit water as he was.
The point is, from that point on it's been an uphill fucking battle with the little blue blood. Don't even get him started on that whole 99 clone and evil future self bullshit Tim got up to.
"Youthful indiscretions" his fucking ass.
The most important thing about this is that he didn't actually believe Tim was hiding a fucking relationship from the family. Not even once.
But Jason called him, just like his other siblings expected him to, and dug. Because even if Jason said something about it, or didn't call, it would end in the same stupid result: Tim not giving him any information on what is actually happening.
Jason actually thinks Tim's been hiding one of those aforementioned indiscretions, as opposed to a whole ass relationship.
He's pretty sure Tim is doing something mad illegal. Like criminal rogue type shit. He's 89% percent sure, even, and that this relationship thing with this Danny guy is a farce.
He thinks that maybe this Danny character might be an accomplice even, if not a whole ass fucking instigator.
But ultimately, it doesn't matter if it is or is not true. Why would Jason throw rocks from his awesome, well defensible and reasonable glass house after all?
He's not looking to start shit really, he just wants to do his brotherly duty and be annoying. Possibly dig up blackmail, maybe figure out how to metaphorically go to Tim's room, fart, and then leave with the door still open.
You know, regular brother shit, just with added crime and possible violence. To either Tim or Danny, he's not really picky.
That is until, three months into the charade, he realizes that Tim's Danny is the same Danny that lives just down the hall from Jason.
Danny Nightingale, who reminded Jason of his brotherâthe brother from before the Bats invaded his life, before he died, before Danny Todd died.
The same neighbor who respects his boundaries, enjoys his baking, and genuinely helps the people around him. The same guy he exchanges food with on occasion, who helps Mrs. Martinez carry her groceries up and feeds the stray cat population that seems to pester the entire block.
Jason's first thought is that he didn't think Danny had it in him.
But then again, Saint Dickolas moonlights as a dangerous vigilante, so it wouldn't be too far fetched for Danny to have a whole other life. Jason hasn't dug into it, really. Not beyond the basics for his own safety.
There is the whole thing with the Nightingales' former parents (does it count as former if they're still alive, justâŠdisowned, or is there another term for that?) being borderline mad scientists, but with the Nightingale siblings firmly taking a stance against them Jason was less inclined to think they've gone down that route.
Still, that doesn't discount the possibility that Danny and Tim are committing crimes together, and aren't actually in a relationship.
Which leads Jason to his second, more important thought:
Danny hypothetically leads a secret life of crime and he's doing it with Tim?
Jason is Red HoodâJason has been trained by Batman, has been trained as an assassin and a fucking mercenary at one point. Jason is a crime lord! He's the Crime Lord, even!
Why the hell isn't Danny committing crimes with Jason?!
Granted, Danny probably doesn't know Jason is knee deep in crimes since that's kind of the point of being trained for this kind of shit but still. It's the principle of the thing.
Jason will be damned if Tim will take another thing from him, especially since Jason is clearly the better fucking choice in crime doing, so obviously the best course of action here is to bust open this fake relationship thing and take Tim's place in being Danny's partner in crime and only crime.
(Maybe a partner in bread and pastries too, he could use some more help with the bakery. Maria and Sybil can handle it, obviously, but more helping hands wouldn't hurt.)
Which is how Jason spends an entire afternoon bugging the guy's place, though he made sure to stay away from the bedroom area on the slim chance it was actually true that he was in a relationship with Tim.
(Jason refuses to think about his brother's sex life and therefore refuses to think about the possibility they take it outside the bedroom. In his mind, Tim and Danny will hold hands under the covers in the bedroom and that is that. Nothing more.)
All told, three weeks of surveillance proves not much of anything beyond things Jason already knew about Danny. It seems like now that the cat is out of the bag the so-called couple spends more time at Tim's penthouse apartment than at Danny's, and whilst it would be interesting to try and bug the penthouse in a way that Tim won't catch him Jason doesn't want his brother on his case about it yet.
Still, he's not giving up so he occasionally checks the logs here and there, hopeful for some kind of proof.
According to Tim's not-so-secret secret calendar, Danny should still be visiting back home to celebrate some kind of family tradition so he's not actually expecting anything to show up in the logs today.
But his bugs pick up a noise so he tunes in, just in case it's Tim suspecting Bat interference.
The rattling of a door can be heard, followed by the thump of bags being thrown onto the ground indelicately. There's a grunt, and a low voice grumbling about messy brothers and something or other that's hard to pick up. He focused his bugs mostly in the living room, so the mystery person must be talking too low for the audio to pick up.
"âŠI know, Spike." A feminine voice sighs, footsteps and voice coming closer, "Believe me, I know. But it's not the first time Danny has hidden something from me, and it surely won't be the last."
There's a rustle, and a textile plop as someone rests themselves on one of the seating options in the living roomâjudging by the clarity of the voice, it's likely to be the sofa.
There's a long pause as the voice presumably listens to the other person on what is obviously a phone call.
"You know my brotherâ" The voice coughs, cutting themselves off before suddenly going a little low like they're hurt, "I just don't understand why he wouldn't tell me about this mysterious boyfriend until now."
More rustling, another plop, and a sigh. "No, you're right. IâŠdefinitely would not tell Danny if I were in a situationship either. That is too much information even for me."
Another pause. Jason realizes, in this moment, that the voice must be Jasmine Nightingale, Danny's older sister. Checking the calendar doesn't clarify why she is in her brother's apartment two days ahead of schedule, but at least Jason is getting some kind of clarityâeven if it's not the kind of clarity he needs.
On one hand, the woman has a point. Jason would never divulge a situationship to his siblings, after all. That is way too mortifying to even fathomâbut on the other hand he knows Steph wouldn't hesitate. And Dickâwell.
Dick's situationships usually did all the spilling, so his brother never actually had to tell the family anything. It's fucked up that Nightwing's business is always on full blast, with the flimsy excuse of him being the most attractive hero on the scene or whatever fucking bullshit they wanna spout to justify their objectification of his brother, but hopefully with his upcoming nuptials that will ease up a bit.
And then, of course, there's the other third hand: That Danny hid the situationship from his sister because they really are in a fake relationship to cover up the crimes they are committing.
Jason is heavily invested in this mythical third hand.
"I just don't know about this Tim guy." Jasmine continues, sneer obvious in her tone. "I know Danny's afraid of commitment but he's weak to his desiresâthere's no way the situationship stayed that way because of Danny. Do you think he strung Danny along until his hand was forced?"
Jason bristles a little bit. Two wolves are battling inside him. One wolf sneersâloathe as he is to say it, if this were real Tim would never string a guy along like that. Not on purpose anyway. The other wolf cackles, because Tim totally doesn't deserve Danny anyway.
Jasmine laughs after a moment. "Well. That's certainly a positive spin to put on it. My how we've grown!"
Another pause, before Jasmine grunts, footsteps getting farther away. "It doesn't matter. I've got three days in Gotham, andâ"
Jasmine cuts herself off, everything suddenly going eerily silent. Jason stiffens. What happened?
"Yes, Spike. I'm still here." Jasmine's tone brings a shiver down Jason's spineâdeadly and very very clear. Close.
"âŠVlad." Jasmine growls, the mic on the bug creaking loudly, as if it is being squeezed with extreme force.
"Spike, I'm going to have to call you back." Jasmine cheerfully bids her friend goodbye, before silence once again befalls the room.
"Vlad, if you're listening to this, that means you have not learned your lesson." Jasmine carefully enunciates each and every syllable. "It means you broke your promise to leave us alone, and that means you will die."
Jason perks up. Whatâ
"I will kill you, over and over and over again." Jasmine says very slowly, "And then I will happily bring you to the tender mercies of my brotherâthe older one. Do you understand?"
Before Jason can really comprehend anything, the audio peaks in a loud crackle and one by one in quick succession all of his bugs are being broken swiftly and methodically.
Jason lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Well, fuck. Fuck. Is this Vlad guy going to die because of Jason?
Jason has a lot of blood on his hands, sure, but nothing likeâshit. Who the hell is Vlad, and how the fuck is Jason supposed to save him?
Wait. Thinking on itâwhy should Jason save him? Context clues tell Jason this Vlad guy is bad newsâthat he's planted bugs to monitor Danny before, maybe even to monitor Jasmine too.
Which. Creep move. What the fuck, this Vlad guy should totally dieâeven if he didn't do it this time, Jason has very little faith in humanity. He has no doubts this Vlad asshole would be a repeat offender.
Fuck Vlad. Jasmine should totally murderize that guy. As a treat.
Jason supports women's rights and wrongs, thanks very much.
Vlad Masters was having a good day, all things considered.
Peaceful, really. Despite Daniel and Jasmine shutting him out of their lives, despite young Ellie's long stints away and short awkward stays in between, despite Maddie and Jack being in shambles with their portal now closed and their work now seized and labeled as bigotry, Vlad is doingâŠOkay.
He's doing fine, really. His Obsession being what is essentially a poor man's version of Envy, morphed from his true Obsession of Family being warped beyond repair due trauma and ego, makes it difficult to fulfill but he manages. He's managing.
He's started dating, and is trying to be a better father to Ellie. She doesn't visit often, and takes his calls very rarely, but she does answer his texts so he calls it a win. He's even tried his hand at writing letters to Dan, though he hasn't gotten a reply yet.
It's not exactly living the dream, but working towards it soothes the ache and the insanity.
Obsessions are weird like that, as Daniel once said. Nebulous, andâŠvague.
With Vlad taking so long to truly figure his out after chasing after the wrong thing for such a staggering amount of time, it just made the waters even muddier, so to speak.
But truly, he has been having a good day. A peaceful day.
âŠSo why does he feel like Death herself comes upon him?
"Do you want to pick my color?" Danny asks Tim quietly, nudging their shoulders together like it's some kind of secret they're sharing and not getting manipedis in a large group of his boyfriend's family members.
Danny's smiling in a way that makes Dick's heart kind of squiggle, because seriously, the two of them are so cute.
"Only if you pick mine." Don't even get him started on Tim's smile back, he can hardly stand it. He hasn't seen Tim this happy in forever.
Danny looks at the wide expansive wall of polishes. "I don't know if you wanna trust my taste."
"You just don't want to pick." Tim accuses, before his eyes widen dramatically as he points at his boyfriend. "You're being lazy."
"I am not being lazy!" Danny argues, pushing his hand so that Tim's fingers loosen and he can slip his in. "I just think you have better taste."
"I will not be falling for your lies." Tim scoffs, changing the grip of their hands and letting them fall between them.
"But you'll fall for me," Danny smirks, leaning in close for a moment. "Right?"
Tim sputters, smacking at a laughing Danny. Tim turns away, pouting a bit as Danny tries to placate Tim. When that fails, he bargains, grabbing swatches and polishes and pleading with Tim. "Alright I'll stop, I'll stopâsee? I'm picking a color, I promise."
Tim rolls his eyes, but he relents and lets Danny be silly, standing still as Danny bids so that he can put colors up to his face.
"It's patently unfair that you look good in everything." Danny says, another swatch in his hand that he twists this way and that. "Why do you look good in everything?"
Tim blushes, a familiar blush that crawls up his neck. "I don't look good in everything."
"Not from where I'm standing." Danny mumbles as his brows furrow in serious thought over colors.
Tim, looking exasperated and flattered and beside himself about it, awkwardly covers his face. "Oh my god. I'm going over there to pick my colors."
"Stop staring," Aunt Kate says from beside him, ruffling his hair like he's a child and not almost forty, "and pick a color, Dickie."
Dick runs a hand through his hair, fixing it so that it's not as much of a mess before smiling towards his aunt. "Can't help it, they're just so cuteâlook at them!"
Dick gestures expansively at where Tim delicately picks a red color that looks quite similar to the red of his vigilante suit. Dick squints, and sure enough Tim picks up a yellow too, to complete the set.
"I know, I know." Aunt Kate smiles, nodding towards where Danny is haphazardly putting up swatches and polishes towards Tim. "I feel the same way when I see you with Kori, you know?"
Dick feels a warmth flow over him at the mention of his fiance. His fiance. His fiance!!!
He'll never get tired of that. It's been a long time coming, with a lot of ups and downs and intergalactic politics, but finally, it's happening.
He gets to be Koriander's husband.
He could scream, really. He won't, but it's a near thing, always. He wishes she were here now, but she declined on account of some thing she has with the Outlaws. Jason was laughing at him about it earlier, texting him pictures of his fiance and mocking him.
Jokes on him, he saved all those pictures. Jaybird shows his care in increasingly convoluted ways, and Dick loves his brother for it.
"Tim, you can't be serious." Babs scoffs, plucking the polish out of Tim's hands. "Really?"
"What?" Tim's shoulders scrunch up, self conscious and embarrassed. He knows what, definitely, but they obviously can't explain it without Danny cluing in. He focuses on the wall of polishes again, decisively picking up another color and focusing intensely on it like the problem might go away if he ignores it enough.
"I think they're great colors." Dick chimes in, coming to stand beside his brother and draping his arm around his shoulders.
Tim starts to relax, thankfully, so Dick takes it a little step further. He shakes his brother as he bends a little to meet his brother's eyes. "Danny'd rock them, right Tim?"
Steph scoffs. "Yeah, but at what cost?"
"What do you mean?" Danny tilts his head, confused. He takes the polish and puts it up to the light. "These colors are nice."
Steph bites her lip. "They're just very loud, is all."
A hilarious blunder of a cover up, considering Steph is wearing bright purple leggings and has chosen this obnoxiously neon orange for her nails.
"Does it matter?" Danny scrunches his face. "I'm not exactly front facing."
"It doesn't." Aunt Kate reassures him, picking out a very nice deep red that matches her lipstick. "Do whatever you want kid."
Danny seems to consider this, before looking at the handful of polishes in his hands. It's an assortment of colorsâone of each, if Dick isn't mistaken, before he slowly begins to put everything away except for a very understated but bright blue.
It's icy, a pale almost pastel, with little shimmers in it that shine in the light that remind Dick of icicles and fresh ice and minuscule snowflakes flickering in bright winter sunshine.
"This one reminds me of you, but if you like another color that's okay too." Danny smiles nervously, handing it over to Tim. "I figure, you wear a lot of blue suits, right? But maybe it's a little too light?"
It would be comical if it weren't so sweetâhow Danny's fingers dwarf the tiny polish bottle and how delicately he holds it out to them like it's some kind of bomb. Tim looks like he's shut down at Danny noticing his suit colors, and subsequently chose a nail polish to match them, so Dick takes the polish for him. "That's very thoughtful of you, Danny."
Dick's voice seems to shake Tim out of his stupor, blushing and clutching the other polish he had found earlier like a lifeline. "Yeah, I like it a lot. It's very thoughtful of you. Thank you, babe."
And then Cass appears out of nowhere, steps silent as always but no less interrupting Tim and his flustered babbling, plucking the emotional support polish from Tim's hands. It's another blue, darker and deeper. It has these bigger flakes to them, not quite glitter but not quite a shimmer either, iridescent in the light.
It's not exactly a color he's seen Tim look for before, always more used to his brother picking reds and oranges in his downtime.
But then Cass takes the polish and puts it up against Danny's face, going so far as to tiptoe even though Danny automatically hunches down for her, and suddenly it makes sense.
It matches Danny's eyes, right down to the flecks of hazel.
Dick, starting to see a pattern, puts the polish Danny chose up against Tim's face.
An almost perfect match to Tim's pale blue eyes.
"I'm gonna gag." Steph says, breaking the moment. "Picking each other's eye colors? Seriously?"
Tim and Danny both blush, and even though it's cute beyond imagination Dick might also throw up. Like wow.
But Dick also has no leg to stand on, considering he picked a color that matches his fiance's hair.
"I think it's cute." Babs smiles, rolling over to a stop beside them. "Maybe switch, so you can have each other's?"
Cass and Dick wordlessly switch polishes, each depositing them back into Danny and Tim's hands as Steph gags more exaggeratedly in the background.
Aunt Kate, amused, pats Steph on the back in "support."
"Does everyone else have their colors?" Dick claps his hands, ready to get the party moving to give his brother a moment with his boyfriend. There is a serious concern about blood flow with how much the two are blushing from the inadvertent cheesiness of the situation.
"Wait!" Danny steps towards Steph, grabbing the red and yellow Tim picked out earlier. "I can put these on my toes."
Aunt Kate snorts. "This one's definitely a keeper, you hardly find any so whipped."
Tim hisses at Aunt Kate as Danny scratches the back of his neck bashfully.
"Are you going to have Danny choose the colors for your toes too?" Babs asks uncertainly. Dick understands, they've been taking a long time to pick their colors after all.
"No, it's okay." Tim shrugs, holding the polish Danny chose close to his chest. "I'll just pick my usualâblack and white."
For some reason, Danny smiles at that, like he's pleased about something. Dick abstractly remembers that he used to date a goth girl, didn't he? Maybe Danny's into that. Tim's been sort of out of his skater boy phase, but Dick remembers he would paint his nails black all the time back thenâespecially when he was sort of in that thing with Kon (or, if Tim is to be believed, not in any kind of thing with Kon because they never had a thing, Dick, how could say thatâ).
Dick smirks at the thought of digging up those photos and showing Danny. "We're all set then."
"I'm not even sure why you're here, Lucius." Bruce sighs, rubbing a finger against the space between his brows.
Here being a nice, unassuming cafe with a lovely variety of food options and frankly phenomenal coffee. They're seated in the innermost booth, next to each other on one bench with Bruce on the outside and facing the door because he's a paranoid old man.
"You know damn well why," Lucius huffs, pointing an accusatory finger at his long time friend. "You have been trying to get into Danny's files at WE. You've been sneaking around, and I won't allow it Bruce. I won't!"
"You and I both know that if I really wanted to, it'd be done already." Bruce rolls his eyes.
"And you and I both know that's horse shit." Lucius scoffs, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Barbara assured me she staved off the worse of it, and you know better than to dig through my things."
"Danny isn't yours," Bruce needles, precise in his pedantry as usual, "and he's not a thing to own, regardless."
"Danny is mine." Lucius shoots back, sharp like a batarang. "He's my engineer and a nice young man that I refuse to leave at your tender mercies."
"I'm just here to meet my son's boyfriend." Bruce's voice is soothing, almost pleading Lucius to be reasonable.
Lucius knows better.
"You're here to scare the living daylights out of him because he's dating your precious boy." Lucius elbows him. "I'm here so you have to play nice."
Bruce scoffs, but doesn't deny it. He knows better too.
There's a long moment of silence, because Bruce is insane and Lucius ambushed him on his way to stake out the cafe they're meeting the boys at an hour ahead of time. He knows Bruce is the world champ of silence and brooding, and usually Lucius is more than fine with that, but today he can't take it anymore.
So he makes the dreaded small talk. "Did you hear about what happened to Masters?"
Bruce takes a moment, humming. "Freak accident, supposedly."
Lucius does not want to be playing these games. He knows Bruce knows more than he lets on about the damn thing, he's Batman for Christ's sake.
"What kind of freak accident breaks both arms and legs, three ribs, and a singular big toe?" Lucius rolls his eyes. "Far as I know your family is the only one that participates in extreme sports."
"That's not true," Bruce drawls, but again Lucius ain't having it. He flaps a hand and scoffs.
"Yeah, yeah Queen is cut from the same cloth and don't even get us started on Lutherâ" Lucius nudges his shoulder against his friend, "seriously though. Should we be worried?"
"About Masters?" Bruce hums, thoughtfully. "Probably. About the world at large? No."
Lucius thinks on that for a moment, before slumping. "You know Masters is Danny's godfather?"
It's another rhetorical question. He knows Bruce knows. He knows Bruce knows Lucius kind of hates Master's work ethic and guts, and is very bitter about Danny's former parents' taste.
But Bruce surprises himâhe shouldn't, considering who his friend is and how much he cares about Lucius himself.
"It's not legally binding." Bruce rumbles, smug. "It may have been able to hold water in court before, but not after he changed his name and went under guardianship of his sister."
"Really?" Lucius perks up before slumping again. "What am I getting excited forâhe's 31, he's too old to need me in his life. I'm just his boss."
"You've been following his work since he was at Chicago U, haven't you?" Bruce thinks aloud, tapping a finger against his chin. "At one of those science fairs. It would make sense if you felt a little attachment."
"One year," Lucius can't help but say, "He made a working foldable motorcycle."
Bruce doesn't say anything in response, but it's his thoughtful, intrigued silence so Lucius continues.
"It folded up into a backpack that weighed 47.2 pounds." Lucius' voice is far off and distracted as he remembers the day he saw that project and met a then 22 year old Daniel Nightingale, freshly minted and free from his parents.
"He was disappointed," Lucius continues, disbelief coloring his tone, "because he couldn't find an engine light enough or small enough that could go the speeds he wanted it to go."
Bruce snorts, but placidly drinks the glass of water that the waitress gave them when they first sat down.
"He's been lonely." Lucius finally breaks. "I'm his boss so I haven't beenâŠbut I could tell he was lonely."
"So you're here to stop me from scaring Danny," Bruce guesses, "And I'm here so you don't scare Tim?"
Lucius slumps. "No, because I like Tim."
"So I'm here to make sure youâŠ" Bruce begins, trailing off, leading Lucius to finish for him.
"That I don't get mad at Tim for this wholeâŠ" Lucius twirls a hand. "What was it they said? Situationship?"
"According to Tim, it was that way on both accounts." Bruce warns, "Danny has a fear of commitment."
"And Tim has a night life and a record for getting engaged for the Greater Good." Lucius sniffs.
"That was Tam's idea." Bruce reminds him, as if Lucius isn't already fully aware his daughter did it for good reasons. The fake engagement they staged to save WE was thankfully handled well enough that it stayed out of the papers and was short enough that nobody outside that damn conference room that day could even really figure out it existed in the first place. Still, Lucius may or may not have the tiniest bit of grudges.
Microscopic even.
"How did they even meet?" Lucius changes the subject, and he'll deny it to his dying day but he's pouting, he's sure. "What do they even like about each other?"
It's a stupid question, he knows the merits of both boys, but Lucius is having Big Complicated Feelings right now.
"How is it you know so much and yet so little about your own employee?" Bruce chuckles, mocking and he swears to God this man is so annoying even after all these years still.
"I don't snoop into the personal lives of the people around me, Bruce." Lucius jabs a finger at his long time friend. And he didn't want to know, he doesn't say. Looking into the love lives of his children the people important to him is a dangerous and finicky path. You never really know what kind of TMI you get, and with the rainbow tinted unhinged lives the Bats live it's hard to get a straight answer, much less a real one.
"Right," Bruce grins, boyish gleeful, "you only follow their scientific exploits since they were in college and offer them a job."
"A foldable motorcycle Bruce." Lucius stresses, as if it will absolve him."And that was in his third year at his undergrad."
"No, you're right, it is very compelling." Bruce pauses, glancing sideways at Lucius. "Do you thinkâ?"
"We've already been working on improving it toâŠ" Lucius coughs, "your standards for the night shift."
"Good, good." Bruce leans back pleased, before straightening up suddenly.
When he follows Bruce's gaze, he spots Tim and Danny entering the cafe holding hands and discussing something. They look nervous, until Danny spots them and looks confused.
Which is fair, Lucius kind of just barged in after all.
Danny points over to them, and when Tim spots them he makes a thoughtful kind of face, but is somehow not actually surprised. Damn Bats.
They make their way over, and Lucius straightens himself up to nudge at Bruce.
"Play nice, Bruce." Lucius mutters under his breath.
"Speak for yourself." Bruce mutters back.
And then boys arrive, and it's showtime.
FEATURED ART:
Sam and Tuck's pfps: @phantomfen
Jazz's pfp: @smooth-jazz-radio
Dan's pfp: @belfry-ghost
Ellie's pfp: @hardcover-ship-ambassador
Dick's pfp: @finemeal
Babs' pfp: @agentnavi
Jason's pfp: @haleswallows
Dami's pfp: @lokiitama
Duke's pfp: @clockwaysarts (@paperpuffin on ao3!)
Steph and Cass' pfps: @miomorpheles
Kate's pfp: @psyscha
It isn't until the looming threat of a Family Brunch, almost 5 months into their charade of fake boyfriendship, that Danny realizes that he hasn't been pretending at all.
He's been conscious of the fake status of their relationship this entire time, don't get him wrong. And he's aware that he's been thoroughly just. Having fun with it.
But there's a fine line between being cheesy just to enjoy being close to his crush and being sincere in these acts of intimacy just to get what he can getâand looking back on it, that line was crossed so long ago he needs binoculars just to see the outline of it.
Danny has standing date nights with Tim. They have regular sleepovers (platonic, of courseâwith Danny in the guest room) where Danny uses Tim's shampoo and body wash, where Tim buys him clothes to keep in the penthouse because it's "what he would have done if it were real, Danny."
That's not even the end of it, not even the worst of it.
Babs helped Danny finish his presentation, 3 months ago, and Dick helped with the fucking presentation.
(Because yes, Danny was voluntold to help with presenting the damn thing three separate times to three different departments. And yes. It took that damn long to finish a powerpoint. Danny hates group projects with the passion of 3 Red Suns.)
He watches movies with Duke once a month, Damian comes to bother Danny at work during his intern hours, and somewhere along the way he finds out that Neighbor John is actually Jason Peters Todd (yes, the one that died all those many years ago but didn't actually). Apparently he has a huge crush on Jazz, which is something Danny doesn't want to think about. When did he even meet Jazz? How??
Lucius is inviting him to dinner and forcing Danny not to do overtime because apparently he's always wanted to do so but didn't want to abuse his position of power to encroach upon Danny's free will and this whole Tim thing has made it abundantly clear that if he didn't then the Waynes would "steal him away." Which Lucius has made very clear that that is inherently unfair, when Lucius found Danny first. Go fucking figure.
He, Cass, and Kate (or Aunt Kate, as she insists) go to the gym together all the god damn time, and don't even get him started on Bruce.
He doesn't know what Bruce wants from himâfor Danny to cry? Is that it? Does he want Danny to cry and be very sorry for taking his boy from him?
It's fake, so Tim's not exactly been defiled by him like Bruce clearly thinks he is, but Danny's also not exactly a Saint or anything so even if he could say something he has eyes. He wouldn't be able to, in good conscience, tell Bruce that Tim is safe from his lurid thoughts.
He's obviously safe because Danny won't do anything without Tim's consent but they've shared a couple of very chaste kisses and Danny's brain is constantly in the gutter about it.
He'd almost be ashamed if he didn't know with full certainty that anyone in his position would have broken by now. Because Tim is so, so hot, and sexy, and cute, and funny, and has actually been kind of opening up to him like a slow blooming flower and he might go certifiably insane about it. Arkham probably already has a cell with his name on it, it's kind that crazy.
All this to say, Danny's life has gotten much busier and less busier at the same time. His work-life balance is being forcibly held hostage by an array of Waynes with his calendar being full but not too full as his friend group grows exponentially but not overwhelmingly.
Because they are his friends, the Waynes. They're chaotic and nosy and loud and most of all, most importantly, they're good. They don't push but they push just enough to force Danny to the way he was beforeâthe way he was with Sam and Tucker and his ghost menagerie.
Jazz is less worried, and Danny is less lonely, but reallyâat what cost?
Because Danny has it all, and it's hitting him full force like the GAV being driven by his dad that he has it all and all of it is fake.
He's lying to all of the Waynes, to his own sister, and Tim said his family would be crazy but he didn't say his family would inexplicably weave themselves into the fabric that makes Danny's life.
He didn't say their kind of crazy would remind him of homeâa home that isn't his home anymore, a home that is less a home than Chicago ever was, or Gotham is now. A home he can never really go back to unless he wants to face what he and Jazz left behind. Which is terrible, because how would Tim know any of that?
It feels like every facet of Danny's life meshes with Tim's so perfectly and makes Danny think stupid things, things like Tim belonging with him and being in his life.
And the fact is, Danny isn't actually sure if Tim will keep him after this whole charade. Even as just a friend, he's not sure if Tim would want a walking, half-living reminder of the time he lied to his entire family.
Actually, being hit by the GAV might hurt lessâhe's healed from that kind of damage before.
"DannyâŠ" Sam scooches in close to where he's sitting on his sofa, head in his heads.
"You can say it." Danny mumbles, not acknowledging the hand rubbing up and down his back. This used to soothe him, it should soothe him now, but all it does is make him remember the temperature of Tim's hands and therefore reminds him how pathetic he kind of is.
"Say what?" Tucker asks, coming back from the kitchen with their second round of coffees and tea. He places them on the coffee table before them, before sitting on the other side of Danny close enough that he can siphon the heat off of his childhood friends.
"I told you so." Danny groans, leaning back and shrugging off Sam's hand. "You can say I told you so."
"So you are in deep." Sam says quietly. "You're being real about it."
There's a long silence that all three of them aren't sure how to break.
"I've always been real about it." Danny sighs, looking up at the ceiling. "It's just. Before it was kind of a pipe dream you know?"
Danny gets up, phasing through the sofa to pace behind it as his friends turn and lean over the back of the couch to watch him.
"I admit it, right, I had a huge crush on the guy before this whole endeavor." Danny gestures with his hands, mindlessly. "But I figure, have a little fun, he won't treat me bad and his family probably are nice."
"And he hasn't," Tucker hesitantly confirms, "And they are."
"He's been treating me sweetly." Danny slides his hands through his hair, stopping and gripping at the strands. "And his family are fun. Like Ember and Johnny and Kitty and, and Val and Wes kind of fun."
"Oh." Sam says, lowly, but Danny isn't hearing it.
"He'sâhe's so sweet to me, and I know it's an act, I can handle it, fine, whateverâ" Danny flaps a hand as if to banish the memories. "But his family has so thoroughly integrated themselves into my life and every week, every day they force me to step away from work and life and have fun and problem solve and fit in and it's likeâ"
"It's like when you were Phantom," Sam completes his scattered thoughts. "When you hadâŠ"
"When you had balance." Tucker picks up the thread. "When you were fulfilling your Obsession."
"âŠDid you ever figure out a word for that?" Sam cuts in, when Danny's silence confirms their line of thought.
"No." Danny huffs, giving up and phasing back through the couch to fall into the cushions again. "Ghost Writer suggested community and a bunch of other synonyms, but none of them really fit. Not like Ellie's Freedom and Vlad's Family does."
"Boiling down a complex thing into a single word is kind of impossible dude." Tucker shrugs.
"Tell that to the Observants." Danny scoffs. "Just when I thought I was going to be free from the horrors of Monarchy, they come pester me about Halfa Records and the necessity of leaving traces of history for future generations."
"How many Halfas were there before, anyway?" Tuck leans into Danny, the weight of him is comforting, especially so when Sam adds herself into it.
"Sixty seven, before Vlad." Danny rolls his eyes. "And all of them left a one word Obsession, so now I have to too."
"Sucks." Sam grumbles with Danny. "And Ghost Writer won't let you sneakily put in a footnote or something?"
"No, he's not cool like that." Danny sighs, relishing this quiet moment with his best friends in the entire world. "Mostly likely it's gonna be Community and I'll just have to suck it up."
It's not like it will kill him again, this vague mislabeling of his Obsession, but it rankles at him something fierce is all.
"Would it help if I said I was super impressed how you managed to freak without spilling the beans to Jazz earlier?" Tucker hopefully asks, which Danny snorts to.
Jazz had left half an hour ago to get back home, once Danny had confirmed he was alright. Sam and Tucker stayed behind because they knew Danny still had things to say that he couldn't have said in front of her.
"Well, that was easy, because I am freaking out about meeting Bruce in aâŠcasual capacity."
"But you're also freaking out about this." Sam blows out a forceful breath.
"But I'm also freaking out about this." Danny confirms.
"Well." Tucker makes a face. "Shit."
"It's fine." Danny forces a smile, nudging his friends off and leaning forward to sip at his coffee. It's lukewarm now, but it's fine. It's fine. "I'll justâŠenjoy it while it lasts, just like with Tim."
Neither of his friends say the obviousâthat Danny is clearly ignoring the crux of the problem. That they know Sunday Brunch with the Waynes is a big step, that they know he's accepted them into their circle however one-sided that may be with the added complication of a fake relationship, that more than the heartbreak with TimâŠ
The fundamental tilt of Danny's Obsession could ruin him the way it ruined Vlad.
Because Danny's Obsession isn't just belonging in a community, it's contributingâit's being needed and being wanted and wanting and needing back.
It's fulfilling a role for a larger purpose, the way Phantom did for Amity Park and the ghosts and even for his parents at one point.
"Maybe you can still be friends after?" Tucker tries to offer, but even he knows that's a fool's hope.
"Even if you can't," Sam glares at Tucker, before putting on a comforting smile towards Danny, "You'll have us. No matter what happensâyou'll have us."
Danny takes in the scent of his shitty instant coffee. Tucker always puts cinnamon on top, and it's a comforting aroma to his senses. The scent of the tea he keeps in his apartment specifically for Sam blends in really nicely, and there's still lingering traces of Jazz's perfume in the air, mixing and mixing and mixing in his brain.
"Yeah," Danny breathes out, because this more than anything is a fact of lifeâa truth that Danny can cling to: No matter what, he won't be alone. "Yeah, and that means the world to me."
His friends lean back in, and Danny tries not to melt away in the warmth of their love.
===
"Tim, go to bed." Danny drawls, plucking the tablet away from the other man and flopping next to him on the couch.
His fake boyfriend hasn't slept in a couple days, Danny is sure. Even without the vague comments over the table the Waynes threw out, Danny can see it in Tim's mannerisms.
It might be the stress of having his fake boyfriend over for a Family Sunday Brunch on top of the lack of sleepâbecause that's something Danny has learned about Tim over these past few months: the man does not sleep.
On top of that he's busy. With WE, with his family, with his other friends and now with Danny in the mix?
Danny isn't sure how Tim would survive if this relationship were real. At least now Tim can multitask during their "at home dates" and relax or work or whatever Tim needs that day.
Not that Danny minds those things, seeing as he also takes those times to do his own work and hobbies. He even has a little toolbox kit at the Penthouse now, a little miniature version of his workshop in his apartment.
"Just one minute." Tim grabs the tablet back, immediately tapping away again.
They're in one of the expansive living rooms at the Wayne Manor, which was exactly as ominous and large as he expected it to be. Thankfully, due to his proximity to Sam and the scant times with Vlad he didn't balk at it like a total loser.
Sunday Brunch was successful, and led to a very high stress game of tag that spanned the entire second floor of the Manor. He did not know that Dick Grayson could be so bendy.
Also, Duke is a lot more cutthroat than he expected him to be. (Damian on the other hand was exactly as cutthroat as he expected him to be).
It was also a veryâŠinteresting experience hanging out with Neighbor John as Jason Todd. Jason is more brusque with his family, but no less obsessed with his bakery side hustle. He's not surprised that Jason would adopt a pseudonym, if he were in his position he would also do that to avoid the press. Still, it was fun getting to know his neighbor beyond baked goods and the occasional recipe exchange.
Though for some reason he kept trying to ask Danny aboutâŠhe's still not sure. Cargo? Shipments? He's never spoken to Neighbor John about anything remotely related to the Logistics field, so it ended with a lot of confusion and a determined exchange of pie recipes.
And now it is seven in the evening and most of the Wayne Brood has either left the premises to go back to their own homes or retired to their rooms upstairs.
"Tim," Danny leans forward to try and make eye contact with his fake boyfriend, "How long have you been awake?"
"It doesn't matter." Tim waves Danny off, still focusing on his tablet.
After the game of tag, Tim had mentally checked outâprobably exhausted both physically and mentally at that point, and had sat quietly next to Danny during the entirety of dinner. His family had seemed to accept this as the norm, so Danny took it upon himself to socialize on his behalf, telling stories about the shenanigans he and his best friends were up to in high school and college years. Even apart, they had managed to get up to a significant amount of mischief.
It was also fun to hear about Tim's younger years, which Tim had tried really hard to stop during Brunch. As if through some kind of agreement, the Tim stories of dinner time were all tame and mostly focused on the other members interacting with Tim as a young kid than anything. It resulted in some pretty funny stories, like how bad of a babysitter team Dick and Babs were and what Bruce got up to when he was their age.
Needless to say, there were a lot of dinosaur jokes and mentions of meteor showers.
And so here they are, finally alone after Tim had dipped to work on his tablet and Dick had quietly wished Danny a good luck as he nodded towards where his brother had left. It was as much of a cue as Danny could expect, so he followed through like a good fake boyfriend.
"It kind of matters." Danny argues, going so far as to try and stick his head between Tim and the tablet. "To me, at least."
Tim pushes Danny away with a finger to his head. "Danny. I will sleep after I get this done."
"It's bedtime though," Danny whines, slumping down the couch and hoping his dramatics will get Tim to at least smile. "Good kids sleep at reasonable hours!"
"I am not a child." Tim hisses, which causes Danny to jump.
He sits back up and raises his hands up in surrender, slowly. Because clearly this is a sore spot. "I know that."
Tim's breathing is a little harsh, visibly shaken. He closes his eyes, brows scrunched. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't haveâ"
"No, it's okay." Danny assures, putting his hands down and watching Tim carefully. Something about this has put Tim off kilter, and Danny's not sure what it is.
"No, it's not." Tim forcefully breathes out. "You don't deserve that. You don't have to caâ"
Tim cuts himself off, biting his lips as if to physical stop the words. You don't have to care, Tim doesn't say, and that more than anything puts Danny in a complicated situation.
He could accept Tim's words. He could stop it here, and they could move on.
But then everything would change. It will change regardless, because up until now it's been daisies and rainbows and prank wars and strangely acrobatic bouts of sibling warfare. But if Danny accepts Tim's out then that's itâit makes their entire facade something they have to placate each other for.
It makes them well and truly fake. It would make it impossible for Danny to keep Tim, after this is all said and done.
And Danny still wants Tim in his life. He wants the Waynes in his life, even if only as "Tim's ex." However slim of a chance it is, he still wants to try.
So Danny takes a deep breath. "I think I deserve to care."
Tim shuts his eyes again, as if it pains him.
"And I think," Danny carefully says, moving a little closer and tugging on Tim's sleeve, "you deserve to be cared for, right now."
There's a loaded silence, the sound of a bullet sliding into the barrel mimicking the ticking of a grandfather clock somewhere in the Manor. Click, click, click, bullet after bullet.
"Unless," Danny tries again, as the barrel slowly fills, "you want toâŠeat pineapples instead."
And then suddenly, the click of the safety.
Tim crumples. Danny takes the tablet and opens his arms, Tim falling in like puzzle piece.
"I'm allergic to pineapples." Tim mumbles into Danny's chest, hands clutching at the back of Danny's shirt.
"Then myrrh?" Danny offers, running a hand up and down Tim's back as he considers for a moment, "Is, uh, myrrh supposed to be lit? OrâŠis it a tea?"
Tim chuckles, wet-sounding even as the rumbles of it travel against Danny's heart. "Both. It's a resin, or it can be turned into an oil. It depends on what you want to use it for."
"Of course you would know." Danny huffs a laugh, adjusting Tim until he's more snug against him, where Danny can lay his cheek against the top of his head. "Though I notice you didn't exactly answer."
"No, Danny." Tim laughs helplessly. "I do not want pineapples or myrrh."
"Good, good." Danny relaxes. "I justâI care about you Tim. Regardless ofâŠthe other stuff. Even if thisâŠdoesn't work out, I want you to be in my life for a long time."
Tim stiffens up a moment, which makes Danny think he did something wrongâor worse, that Tim doesn't want them to stay friends after all. But it's out there now, and Danny can't do anything but hold his breath.
"I'dâŠlike that too." Tim mumbles, squeezing Danny tighter and giving such relief to Danny that he almost melts from it.
The clearing of a throat knocks them both back to Earth, the two of them separating hastily like they'd been caught with their hands down each other's pants, and not just hugging tightly.
Danny tries to ban the imagery away from his mind as he meets the eyes of Alfred, the Butler cum Grandfather, who has a raised eyebrow at them.
âŠThat was very poor choicing in words, and Danny regrets everything about this entire evening.
"A-Alfie!" Tim stutters, and despite how exhausted his body must be it still manages to direct all blood flow to crawl up Tim's neck. "S-sorry, uhm."
"May I suggest you both retire to your room tonight, Master Tim?" Alfred, nonplussed, offers. Danny gets the distinct feeling he is mocking them. "I trust Master Danny will not be needing the guest room made up?"
Danny can feel his ears heat up at that, and when he glances at Timâyep, that blush has now crawled all the way up to his lovely little face. Fuck. Alfred is definitely messing with them.
Tim coughs, blush crawling up to his ears now. "No, Alfred, that'sâthat's quite alright, thanks."
"Very well." Alfred nods, doing an elegant about turn before pausing for a moment. "Might I say, Master Tim, how glad I am to see someone able to so deftlyâŠcare for you?"
Tim, who apparently defies the impossible, gets even redder. Danny, somehow proud beyond reason, musters up the courage to hold Tim's hand and squeeze it in support.
Tim squeezes back, and Danny might burst. Even if it's all fake, he'll have this.
"Good night, Master Tim, Master Danny." Alfred continues forward, but Danny can see a little smile peeking out.
"Bed?" Danny offers after a long moment, hopeful and trying not to sound it. He lowers his voice as he leans in close, as if to whisper sweet nothings, "Promise, you're safe with me."
Tim shivers, and Danny dares not hope forâŠfor mutual feelings, but he can at least hope for this, right? To be safe enough for Tim to have just this? To let Tim know he cares?
"âŠOk." Tim whispers back, lifting his head as their temples meet in a slow slideâa nuzzle, barely half of one. "You're safe with me too."
And if Tim, in his sleep, rolls until he's safely in Danny's arms that night, if Danny stays awake for as long as possible to savor the moment, well.
That's between themâanother little secret for them to keep.
===
The following Monday morning leaves Danny in a State.
He's riding a high of last night's endeavorâof surviving their first fight, of getting to feel Tim in his arms for the first time, of waking up with Tim in his arms.
Still, euphoric as it was it left Danny with little to no sleepâinstead of a ghost, he's a zombie for the day.
He slugs through his morning with the power of sheer will and Lucius' concerned gaze. The man has been more overt in his care for Danny, and Danny's still not really sure what to think about it. He'd think he had a fire core, with the way the warmth seeps into his chest about it.
(He adamantly does not think about the thought that Lucius is what he wanted his parents to be. He adamantly does not think about the thought that Bruce is what he wanted his parents to be, because this thing is fake and therefore not even possible.)
It's in the afternoon when things start to change.
Snacks start to appear at his desk, somehow when he's not looking. This is impressive, since Danny hardly leaves his desk. But lo and behold, there's a beef jerky stick in the brand he usually gets. A handful of those strawberry candies with the jelly inside, the kind they used to give at the dentist when he was younger, shows up in one of his drawers.
When Danny is flagging, closing his eyes for just a moment, he gets jolted with the scent of a very familiar Irish coffee sitting innocently by his elbow.
Danny had asked his coworkers about it, but either they're in on it or the mysterious benefactor is the Invisible Man.
But it's thanks to these boons that Danny survives the rest of the day (and, not in small part, because Lucius heartlessly kicks him out early and tells him to go to sleep).
He starts to get a clue when he exits WE to head home and sees Tim leaning up against a sleek black car, casual as can be, in a peacoat and that giant red scarf Danny loves so much.
"Hey, babe." Danny can't help the smile on his face, even tired as he is. "Did I miss a text?"
Danny doesn't think so, but he wouldn't put it past himself with how tired he was today.
"No, I thought I'd just surprise you." Tim softly says as Danny comes to a stop before him. He glances at the big doors to WE, before going on his tippy toes as he pulls Danny down by his jacket to give him a gentle, lingering kiss on the cheek. "Is that okay? Do youâŠwant pineapples orâŠ"
"Noâno, I. I'm not hungry. It's more than okay." Danny says, because he'll agree to anything Tim says if he gives him kisses like that, even if he's dead on his feet.
Tim looks into his eyes, searching for something, but seems to deem his answer good enough. He's ushered into the passenger seat and whisked away.
Danny breathes in slow, taking in the scent of Tim's personal car. He's only been in this car a handful of times, on account of how most of their dates are performative in nature and therefore should have some kind of audience as much as possible.
The amount of times one of the Waynes "crashed their dates" and they had to pretend to, in some convoluted way, pretend to not be mad about their alone time being encroached upon is frankly hilarious and the epitome of comedy.
But in the here and now, in Tim's car, it's nice, relaxing. Tim doesn't have any music on, which should feel oppressive, but all it does is give Danny ample space to just exist. To breathe and listen to Tim breathe, to feel isolated into himself but not be alone.
He's almost lulled into a sleep when the car comes to a stop, Tim telling Danny they've arrived sotto voce.
It takes all of Danny to unbuckle himself, and by the time he does Tim already has his door open with a hand stretched out to help him.
Danny, now in a sort of trance, lets himself be guided to the elevators and follows the gentle pull of Tim through the doorways until they're in the foyer of the penthouse.
He belatedly realizes he hasn't really said a thing since he got in the car and tries to start, but Tim shushes him and helps him out of his jacket and shoes in quick order.
Danny blinks, and suddenly he's sitting on his bed, the bedside lamp on and in pajamas. He vaguely remembers Tim leaving while he was changing, and before his addled thoughts can go beyond is he coming back, the door opens again to Tim with a cup of hot tea.
Tim sets the mug on a coaster on the nightstand, looking like he's leaving and Danny does something stupid.
Danny reaches up and snags Tim's sleeve. "Stay?"
It's a loaded question, sleepy as it is. Before last night, Tim and Danny firmly slept in different beds at the penthouse. Danny's become more comfortable here now, but it's still Tim's space. They've been together in the evenings before, watched documentaries and movies and read together in silence in the living room, but their rooms have been pointedly personal areas.
Tim, having frozen, knows this. Danny knows he knows this. Danny almost lets go, almost says sorry in the silence, probably would have already done all of that by now if he weren't so slow.
But Tim breathes out, and its like the air isn't compacted anymore.
"Give me a moment?" Tim whispers, as if he doesn't want to break Danny. "I'll be right back."
Danny lets go and watches as Tim shuffles outside, leaving the door open.
Danny takes his own breath, mind clouded as he settles himself on the inside of the bed, watching the steam of the tea rise and dissipate.
It feels like an eternity when Tim finally comes back, in his own pajamas and with his phone, tablet, and their respective chargers in hand.
He gets in the bed next to Danny, a bit of a tight fit with Danny's bulk but still more than enough room to provide space if necessary, and settles with all the chargers plugged in and his phone charging on the stand. He settles himself into the bed sitting up against the headboard, tablet on his lap, fluffing pillows until he's satisfied.
Danny watches all this happen on his side, tucked under the covers. He wants to shift his legs so that there is a point of contact between them, but doesn't dare. He's already pushed a lot tonight.
Tim fiddles with his tablet, adjusting the brightness so it's not blaringly white and bright, and takes a deep breath.
And, as if he's reading Danny's mind or on the same page or simply just the most perfect man alive, extends his hand for Danny to hold.
Danny latches onto it like a lifeline.
"Good night, Danny." Tim's voice is low, lilting. Hesitant.
"Good night, Tim." Danny whispers back, desperate and wired and unbearably exhausted.
Tim uses his other hand to turn off the light, and it's then that Danny realizes he's past the point of no return.
Last night, he didn't really have any hope. Not in the way that Danny fully wanted, at least.
Because last night did give him something, a sort of assurance that at the very least, Tim trusted him to an extentâthat there is a very real possibility they could at least be cordial and maybe even friends after all this.
But it doesn't change that fact that Danny wouldn't have what he wanted. That Danny, with Tim in his arms and darkness blanketing them, didn't think anything would change in the way he wanted.
He didn't think, no matter how close they've gotten, that Tim would entertain the idea of them. A them that isn't fake, a them that isn't performative, a them that is real and romantic in nature.
He thought having Tim's trust, being close to him would be enough. That he could weather the heartbreak even if it shattered him. That perhaps Tim's family would see him every now and then, the way Steph seems to hang around, or the way Tim still talks to Bernard on occasion.
That his heartbreak and loneliness could maybe still be something, even if only a sliver of what he actually wants.
But Danny looks up at the ceiling of the guest room in Tim's penthouse, and realizes it's all bullshit.
Because it's covered in glow in the dark starsâbecause Tim put up glow in the dark stars all over the ceiling of what is effectively Danny's room in Tim's Penthouse. Because Danny had a bad day with no discernible reason other than fatigue, and Tim decided to leave him snacks and his favorite coffee and put glow in the dark stars on the ceiling for Danny. Tim squeezes his hand, as if he's unsure if Danny likes it or not.
And Danny loves it, is the problem. Danny loves it a lot.
He's been trying to convince himself that things will be okay. When he first got into this, he tried to convince himself it would be fun, that he would have a blast just being with his crush. And then again, when he started texting Tim and found his proper way of texting unbearably cute and annoying, that they could be friends and Danny would be fine with that.
And then again when he freaked out about meeting Bruce with Sam and Tucker and Jazzâhe fought tooth and nail to convince them it would be okay, that he would be okay.
And most damning of all last night, with Tim in his arms, he tried to convince himself that this would be enough.
But it's not. It's not enough, because he loves Tim and all that comes with him and it might fucking ruin him.
It might have already ruined him.
"Thank you," Danny breathes out, because he isn't sure he can say anything else without ruining this moment. He pulls Tim's hand to his lips, not quite a kiss but more of a suggestion of one.
Tim squeezes his hand, tight, but his voice is hesitant. "Still not hungry?" Is this okay?
Danny closes his eyes because he's overwhelmed, and maybe heartbroken, and maybe not. He wants to say of course it's okay but settles on keeping Tim's hand in his, pressing it against his cheek, forcing himself to breathe out. "Not even a little bit."
After a long moment Tim starts to work on his tablet, the taps hesitant at first but slowly gaining traction.
Danny thoughts are whirling, even as he body starts to shut down into sleep.
Next month is the wedding, and the tentative end date to this entire charade.
They're supposed to stage some kind of break up some time after the event, so as not to overshadow the couple's special day. It's nebulous at best, and he'd thought he'd take advantage of that, but it isn't enough for Danny anymore.
Danny drifts into sleep with only one thought in mind:
After the wedding, he'll ask Tim. He'll ask him if they could extendâif they could be real.
He's already lost, after all, so why not risk it all?
===
The wedding, as one might expect, aims to kill Danny over and over and over again.
The first attempt is when Tim comes to pick him up in that stupidly attractive peacoat and equally stupidly cute giant red scarf.
The second attempt is when Tim opens the door to the bathroom of their hotel room and steps out looking like a God in a three piece suit that all the groomsmen are wearing. That shade of blue really brings out his eyes, makes him look extremely kissable. Danny doesn't, of course, but it's a near thing.
The third attempt is when the Wayne kids all loiter around the venue to muck around, Danny dancing with Tim in a horrible attempt at a waltzâeventually giving up and just swinging each other around like they're kids and not full grown adults.
The fourth attempt is the giggle Tim gives him when he dips him.
The fifth attempt is when Danny watches Tim walk down the aisle with his paired bridesmaid, a stunning black woman with her natural hair teased into heart shaped space buns. The smile Tim gives him as he walks past nearly does him in, but he prevailsâjust barely.
The sixth attempt is when they lock eyes across the room, as Dick says his vows.
The seventh is the rueful look he gets when Kori says her vows, something about how handsome her groom is and tricks they learned working together.
The eighth attempt is when an explosion punches a hole into the roof of the venue, and a woman with long black hair and a concerningly skin tight metal looking outfit underneath a sort of black bodysuit and knee high black boots floats above them with a saucy little smirk.
"My, my." The woman really is very good at projecting her voice, "Quite the party, and I don't get an invite?"
"Where would I send the invite to?" Kori sneers, "You have been missing for a long time, sâBlackfire."
"Excuses, Excuses," The woman sighs, hands glowing an eerie blackâsimilar to Phantom's ectocharges. "Let's get this party really started, shall we?"
Pandemonium breaks out then, as everyone is ushered out in a panic. The woman, Blackfire if Kori is to be believed, is laughing haughtily and almost cruelly as she starts blasting their surroundings. The Waynes all scatter, and the crowd moves like a tidal wave.
There is a lot of smoke and screaming and flashing cameras. Batman arrives in a flurry and bright blue glowing on his chest, which isn't a color Danny would expectâthen again, he didn't really expect to see Batman flying either.
Danny struggles, unsure what to do. He can't turn into Phantom, crammed as close as he is in the crowd being yanked this way and that.
A piece of the roof caves in, Blackfire's laughter bleeding through the chaos, and Batman swoops in to grab it.
"Batwing!" Someone near his ear screams, which explains the different skin color, but doesn't give him any relief like it does to the people around him.
He can't phase through the crowd, he can't see any of the Waynes, and worst of all he can't see Tim.
Is he okay? He was standing next to Dick when Blackfire came in and Danny can't bear to thinkâ
He's spat out of the crowd when they get through the large doors of the venue, practically stumbling off as he almost trips his way through a side hallway. He hadn't gotten to explore the venue much, too preoccupied with how pretty Tim looked and how nice everything was and how fucking hard and scary it will be to confess to his hopefully-soon-to-be real boyfriend after all this is over, but he saw side doors in the main room, so surely there must be a way in that way.
It's even more important to him that they get through this, because he will tell Tim. He won't accept any other outcome.
He's rushing off on a split hallway, curling around a corner to see Dick rushing out of the venue.
He's about to call out when another man beats him to it, slipping out of the smoke to get behind Dick to wrap a bulky arm around his neck, the other hand bracing against the back of Dick's head to keep him in a chokehold.
Danny doesn't think, he goes invisible.
"Losing your touch, little bird." The man croons, and it makes Danny feel slimey as he rushes through to help somehow without being exposed for his powers.
"Fuck you, Slade." Dick growls. Before Danny can do anything to help, Dick already has his legs swung up and is flipping out of the lock in some strange twist, beginning to fight with the man with alarming force.
Damn, he knew Dick was bendy but this? The sight of Dick, heartwarming and friendly and really actually kind of dorky, fighting with such brutality brings Danny up short. He's once again at a crossroads because the back of his mind keeps screaming for Tim, but he can't just leave.
But once again the decision is taken away from him as two bodies slam through the door, just narrowly dodging Dick and this Slade character's brawl and Danny himself, standing stupidly at a loss.
"Star!" Dick grunts, when Slade takes the opportunity to get a mean right hook in to his gut.
In the rubble, two women are growling and hissing like cats, hands in hands and eyes glowing unnatural colors.
The woman on top is Blackfire, black hair and blazing purple eyes and fists fizzing against her opponent's hands.
The woman on her back is familiar, but it takes him a moment to recognize her. Her hands and eyes glow a familiar green, less goopy like ectoplasm but more plasma adjacent. She's wearing the tattered remains of Kori's wedding dress, but the details are all different. Her skin is more orange and hair more flaming redâbut he swears he knows her. A leg kicks out, and there's a weird ankle lock looking device on it, spitting out the occasional electric sparkâthe woman's skin color and eyes flicking back to Kori's countenance like a glitch.
They struggle a moment before it all clicks and Danny recognizes her. StarâStarfire, Tamaranean Princess and former member of the Teen fucking Titans, manages to get her leg folded and her foot planted in Blackfire's stomache to swiftly fucking canon the rogue back into the room.
"Go!" Dick grunts, still struggling with Slade, "I'll be fine, just go!"
Starfire doesn't hesitate, flying back in as an animalistic screech echoes inside and a black flamed bolt whizzes through. Danny takes it as his cue, confused and still so very panicked, to run after her into the smoke and rubble.
Inside, the venue's a fucking mess. What was once a beautiful tableau filled with an abundance of flowers and what surely must have been millions of expensive fucking decor is now reduced to ashes and ruins. Furniture has been flipped up, curtains singed, and there's still a bottleneck near the main entrance where people are trying desperately to get out and are being waylaid by stray rubble.
He can spot Waynes everywhereâDuke grabbing a boy from under what must be the only upright table on the side and rushing out with him, Kate hefting a man twice her size through the other side hallway with Steph and Cass ushering a group of woman just behind her, even Damian and his friend Jon helping by trying to maintain the crowded main exit with Bruce and Babs.
But he can't fucking find Tim. Above them, Starfire and Blackfire are fighting in a light show, slightly obscured by smoke and mostly only trackable via the purple and green lights. A stray blast escapes from the dust cloud above, and it's like a moment from the moviesâthe green catches his eye and leads him straight to Tim. His suit is dirty and ripped and covered in mysterious dirt from somewhere, and still, he's handsome and everything Danny's ever wanted and has a little girl in his arms.
Danny should not be thinking about how fucking good he looks, like some kind of fuckingâhero or male lead or, or maybe the love of Danny's life and possibly the father of his future children. They're both male, but Danny could figure something out, he's sure.
More blasts dive through the air this way and that, Tim hurriedly passing the little girl off to someone through the doorway just before he slams it closed as another blast speeds through, debris now blocking part of the door Tim was just standing by.
Panicked, Danny tumbles through the venue as he tries to track Tim, going visible again behind a pillar that stands in the corner hidden from even the smoke and dust. Tim's now in the opposite corner after probably dodged rubble and energy blasts, and Danny screams for him just as Dick cuts through, still fighting that Slade guy with terrifying rage.
It stops Danny short, and he dodges around just as Blackfire gets blasted down towards them and straight into the two men. Dick does a dizzying amount of backflips to get some space between them, leaving Slade as the main target. Danny has half a mind to wonder if Starfire did that on purpose, and a small percentile to conjure up images of Nightwing doing those exact fucking flips.
Slade, however, catches her cleanly. He spins into a roundhouse kick with her in his arms and Blackfire takes the opportunity to blast at Dick. Danny shoves his way through to tackle the man out of the way, thankfully, and the roll into each other and slam into a nearby wall.
"I do love a man who knows what he's doing." Blackfire practically purrs from where she is held, pretty as can be even covered in dust and grime, in Slade's arms.
"A woman who doesn't miss a chance," Slade reflects back, voice smooth as butter, "is my kind of woman."
It's the kind of banter that would make him gag in Amity, that or laugh. It's giving Danny whiplash.
He's been in middle of battles before, but that was as Phantom and even then it's been fucking years. Distantly, he recognizes that this panic, this helplessness and confusion, might be his ghost senses trying to get him to transform, to protect his Obsession regardless of the cost.
Danny, knowing full well that he can't do that without serious consequences, beats it down with the relentlessness of a man in fucking Love and is Scared about it.
A green blast shoots between them, causing Blackfire to fly up with a wink and an air kiss as she ruthlessly leaves Slade to deal with it. The man simply huffs, not exactly put out, and somehow manages to dodge it.
Danny, meanwhile, ducks the rubble the blast throws his way and heads straight to Tim as best he can.
The rest of the Waynes have disappeared, and the crowd has almost cleared the venue. When Tim spots him, his face is hard and determined and worried.
It's almost a straight shot, with Tim and Danny as point A and point B, trying to meet in the middle like some kind of dramatic action shot scene where the protagonists clutch at each other desperately to declare their love at each other.
The ninth attempt is the Universe reminding Danny that this whole thing is a fucking farce, that what Danny and Tim have is built upon lies and truths masquerading as lies and a stupid fucking Obsession that is integral to Danny's DNA.
Blackfire kicks heavily into Starfire, causing the hero to slam into the roof above them. A large chunk of debris starts to fall down on where Danny is about to end up. The momentum Danny has makes it hard for him to stop, and Tim is heading right toward him.
On instinct, Danny catches him in his arms and Tim twists. They turn, as if this were just an extension of their dance from before and not in the middle of a god damn rogue attack.
Except this is familiarâthis is something he knows. His mind takes a moment to catch up, but his body remembers.
Evidently, so does Tim's.
Because Danny pulls out a lipstick laser and cuts the bit of debris falling down at them, and Tim wide steps out and spins them clear. He hooks an arm around Danny's neck, falling back and bringing them both down to dodge a stray chair being through at them.
Danny catches them on his hands, staring wide eyed down at his fake boyfriend who he's pretty sure he's thoroughly in love with hanging off him and staring straight back up at him, and his mind finally catches up.
Because he's done this before, years ago. He's danced this dance at another attack, with another personâwith a hero who has a secret identity.
"Red Robin." Danny breathes, and Tim's expression crumbles.
Around them, chaos is still whirling. Batman has arrived, and Danny's fast moving thoughts whisper to him that Bruce probably ducked out to change the moment the commotion started.
He vaguely wonders if the rest of the family has their suits stashed somewhere on the venue, because the dots are connecting and Danny can't stop it.
Starfire, a known associate of Nightwingâbendy and ruthless and a beacon of hope. Signal, who asked him questions all those months ago with Mr. Freeze. He hasn't met the others in their suits but it's easy to see now. It's easy to understandâbecause once you know one, you know them all.
But the most important thing is Tim laying beneath him looking like the world has come crashing down.
"âŠPhantom." Tim whispers back, as if compelled to despite the reluctanceâas if in pure reflex.
And suddenly the world stops. Tim knows. Judging by the guilty grimace he's known. For how long? What does this mean? Why does he look like that? LikeâŠlike this is the worst possible outcomeâ
But Danny can't get his thoughts in line fast enough, and before he knows it Tim is rolling them until he can grab Danny by the bicep and dragging him towards one of the hallways.
"We'll talk later. Rogue attacks first." Tim gruffly does not look at Danny, focusing forward and in the here and now.
Danny can't do anything but do as he's bid. He does that a lot with Tim.
It's a blur after that, the wedding in near shambles until the Bats all sort it out.
Blackfire has disappeared with an air kiss and some more collateral damage, and Slade has equally disappeared in a silent slip. It's all very anticlimactic and unsatisfying in his opinion, but it's not his territory so he will stay in his lane.
Quicker than Danny can really manage to comprehend, the wedding is back on. Dick and Kori do a dramatic reunion, and by the power vested in Bruce they get married in the midst of wreckage and tatters.
Somehow, Danny has found himself beside Tim again, clapping and cheering.
In the euphoria, despite the confusion and uncertainty, Danny turns to Tim toâŠto do something. To kiss him, maybe confess his love like he planned to not three hours earlier.
Except when he does, Tim is no longer next to him.
Looking around, nobody seems to have noticedâthe tenth attempt on Danny's life, the successful one, is this:
Danny, surrounded by family that isn't his own and friends he's made on false premises, standing there bereft.
Tim meets Phantom years before he meets Danny Nightingale.
Though, to be more precise, it isn't actually Tim who meets him.
He actually isn't supposed to be here, in some random town in Pennsylvania of all places.
It's just that Tim has been feeling a little stifled. Or maybe it's more accurate to say that Tim is restless.
Okay, Tim will at least be honest with himself:
Tim is bored.
Tim is also, disgustingly, lonely.
Sue him, it still stings that he and Bernard hadn't worked out. It's been something like two months and it still hurts, quite a lot even, despite not being a stranger to broken hearts.
See for example: Steph, and Jason, and even Dick and Bruce.
(Though Bernard and Steph's situations differ entirely from the way the rest of them have broken his heart. When they say never meet your heroes, they never really warn you what to do when they try to kill you. Or when they eventually take you in and put you through harsh training and even harsher treatment outside of training until they realize they maybe shouldn't do that. It's something they're working on.)
The problem with being self aware with no actual motivation to fix anything means that Tim goes slightly unhinged just to stave off the worst of it.
So here Tim is, a couple hundred miles away from home simply because he's bored and lonely.
This is probably what his family means when they say he has issues. (Like he said, they're working on it.)
Either way, this trip is a nice birthday gift to himself. He couldn't do it on his actual birthday of course, his family and friends would never allow it, but it's close enough that Tim will let it to count.
He's heard about a certain phenomena in this town where ghosts walk among the Living and stir up trouble, and he's unsure whether or not it's something that needs to be dealt with.
There is already a hero on site and according to Constantine the portal that's been ripped open here is nothing to be too concerned about.
Simply put: the portal will close eventually, though it is unsure whether it would be tomorrow or 50 years from now.
In the event it's the latter, Tim has decided to check it out. He's a young college student named Daisy today, a little older than he actually is, meant to be a freshly minted adult taking her first trip to satisfy her little horror-loving hobby.
Daisy has had a blast, walking around as a tourist and taking pictures on her first Big Girl trip.
She's made a couple of friends amongst the residents, learning about Fenton tech and the questionably popular ghost vigilante Phantom. (It doesn't seem like the town is set on whether Phantom is a Menace or a HeroâTim is getting big Spiderman vibes.)
A local named Star was particularly helpful, being a tour guide during summer break from college.
Apparently, most graduates of Casper High come back for the summer, as most of them love their little town dearly. Tim has noted a trend where even if the former Amity Parkians are thoroughly enjoying their lives in their respective cities, many come back often for holidays.
Daisy, being bold and completely obsessed with the idea of meeting a ghost, has made her way to the Observatory on the third day of her trip.
It's highly recommended as one of the more benign spots to witness a Ghost Happening (as they call it here) on account of it being Phantom's Haunt, who is known to be tolerant of humans in the area.
Daisy is making her way through the abandoned Observatory, carefully navigating the dusty halls and rooms, when a loud metallic groaning echoes through the halls.
She was told that the Observatory is still up to code having only been abandoned some five years ago, so there shouldn't be any danger of collapse, but still. The noise is loud enough to warrant Tim internally cursing himself for being leisurely about his research.
A loud cackling startles Daisy, who jumps and tries to run away from the sound towards the outside, only to trip and tumble when a shadowed hand shoots out to grab her ankle.
Before she can do more than brace herself for the fall, she's caught and swept away in a rather cold embrace that only gets colder in the wind that swirls around them. She opens her gaze to Lazarus green eyes, squinted in concentration, and white glowing hair whipping around in the wind.
"Pardon me, Miss!" Her apparent savior apologetically grins, boyish and charming, "I'd say Welcome to my Haunt, but I really wasn't expecting so many visitors today. Or at all, actually!"
Daisy, being an excitable girl, squeals. "You're Phantom!"
"And you've picked a wrong time to be here!" Phantom twirls them around, dodging green tinted objects being thrown about in swirling gusts of wind. The sudden vertigo makes Daisy momentarily wish Tim didn't put "prone to motion sickness" in her profile.
Then again Phantom doesn't need to know that.
But Tim, and subsequently Daisy, is nothing if not thorough, so. She covers her mouth and tries not to 'throw up'.
Suddenly the wind around them stops, and the G Force alone makes Daisy light headed. She's set down gently, just beside the Observatory signage outside. It's a big rock wall looking sign and very sturdy for her to lean against for support as she attempts to get a grip on herself.
By the time she feigns 'getting herself together', Phantom has already captured the wayward ghost in some sort of cylindrical device that resembles a soup thermos and is making his way over to where she breathes to get the 'nausea' to subside.
"Sorry for the rough ride." Phantom hovers, turning his ghostly tail into two legs and crouching down to feel her forehead. His hand is gentle and cold, but not so cold as to feel unpleasant. "Are you alright Miss?"
Quick, efficient, and bedside manner gets a passing grade. Looks like Tim's work here is done.
"Oh, yes!" Daisy beams, excited. "That was everything I could ask for! Would you mind signing something for me?"
"I'm afraid most contracts expire when the signee is uh, expired themselves, Miss�" Phantom jokes, exuding Midwest Charm like the Kents do. Pennsylvania barely counts as Midwest, but with such an exemplary example in front of him it's hard for Tim to argue otherwise.
"Daisy." She introduces herself, giggling. "And I meant would you be willing to give me an autograph!"
"Oh!" Phantom starts patting himself down, before sticking his hand into his chest to pull out a sharpie as he sheepishly grins. "As long as I don't see it on Ebay!"
Daisy giggles again, comforted by a job well done and a town well managed.
Phantom, chivalrous as can be, offers a so-called Ghost Blob to pet, before sending her off safely at her hotel.
Tim gives him an A in heroing, if only because Damian would be extremely jealous of the experience with the little blob, and calls it a job well done.
===
Over a year later, Tim receives word that the portal in Amity Park has been closed. Quietly, and with very little notice.
He'd been keeping Amity Park on the periphery of his life, occasionally checking in the way he does with his past casesâjust in case. He does this regularly with most of them, a sort of ritual included in his weekly life in the event something went wrong again or when Red Robin needed a pick me up after a particularly bad patrol or unsuccessful case. Reminders of success, or in this instance a good hero staying that way, were always a good balm to his nerves.
It's in a Bat's nature to always doubt the good things, just as it is in their nature to never take the good things for granted because they can be so easily ripped away. A dichotomy, of sorts.
So when he hears about the portal closing, he looks into it a little more deeplyâtries to gauge if this will cause issues.
The Drs Fenton very publicly and loudly do not like this new development, but Phantom himself seems particularly happy about this turn of events.
That week, the ghost hero makes his rounds to gather up any stray ghosts still mingling about, dead set on cleaning house. The question of whether Phantom has a way to usher ghosts to the other side passively crosses his mind, but ultimately decides it a non-issue.
By day five, Phantom and his little (and occasionally not so little) dog Cujo are apparently the only ones left to go. The town throws a festival in commemoration, Phantom and Cujo can be seen weaving through the crowds saying their goodbyes.
By day six, word on the street is that Phantom has gone in peace. Whether through a portal of his own making (less disruptive than a man-made one, logically) or by way of ascencion, it's never made clear.
By day seven, Tim discovers something passably interesting.
A year and four months after Daisy's visit to Amity Park, Tim realizes that Phantom is Daniel Fenton.
It's an accident, really, but ultimately bears no real importanceâeither he's a meta masquerading as a ghost or some other genetic mishap, and neither really impacts Daniel's retirement.
Two months and six days after that, the Fenton siblings change quickly their last names.
Jasmine Nightingale, just on the cusp of graduating Chicago University with her undegrad, applies to be her brother's guardian despite Daniel already being 21 years old.
Daniel Nightingale, in the next semester, quietly transfers from Amity Park Community College to Chicago U to join his sister with very little issue despite it being the middle of the academic year.
Tim is happy for him, happy that Phantom has chosen retirement. It's rare to see that in his field of work, not unless it's forced.
It's a nice change, it's a success that Tim can look back on when the going gets roughâthat people have fought the good fight, and have come out the other end better for it. He lets Daniel live his life, and silently hopes Tim will get a similar kind of happy end. It's a lofty hope, but hope comes in many different flavorsâhope like Superman, or Batman, or Phantom.
And then, two years later, government buildings start to mysteriously collapse.
It's a very eventful four months. Especially so when Tim realizes who is responsible for the collapses.
This is when Tim realizes he's kind of absolutely fucked.
===
Red Robin is, for all intents and purposes, not supposed to be here.
This is nothing new, of course. But this is also not entirely true.
There are very little places a Bat cannot be, much less very little people can do to stop a Bat from being somewhere.
The Watchtower is no exception.
John Constantine's quarters at the Watchtower, however, is a little bit of a gray area.
The problem is that Red is mad. Very very mad.
Mad that something so migraine inducing could slip through the cracks like this for years.
It turns out, ghost visitors weren't the only adversaries Phantom was fightingâno. It was humans too.
Not just the Drs Fenton, who were deemed no threat whatsoever, but an actual government agency.
A government agency that had picked up their home office in some remote area in Arizona and set up shop just outside Amity Park. A government agency that hunted Phantom, and experimented on whichever ghost they could get their hands on. A government agency that somehow, somewhere, got a whole law passed that sanctioned all of the above. A law that labeled the local town hero as an abomination, unfeeling, and illegalâa monster to be put down.
And the JL Dark? Did not know.
Because of course, Constantine is a firm believer of locals and occultists staying in their own lanes. It's rude to intrude on a ghost's Haunt, and even worse to intrude on a Protector Spirit's Domain.
Because that's what Constantine classified Phantom as: A Protector Spirit.
The rest of the JL Dark, Dr. Fate in particular, vehemently agreed. And so Amity Park became a "No Fly Zone" and were left to their own devices.
Magic well and truly pisses Red off. He would learn it just to spite the genre of power, but most of the Bats just aren't built for it.
The problem is that Constantine wasn't exactly wrong to do so. When Red traces back the timeline, the GIW wasn't an actual problem until about a year into Phantom's hero career and even then, not really a threat.
They were minor nuisances at best, with the ghost rogues being the most prominent issue for the town. They rarely showed up in town, and on paper weren't even in Pennsylvania.
Reportedly, due to the Death Magic isolating the town in weird ways, the town's cries for help were stolidly ignored. Needless to say even if the JL did come marching in, they would not be welcomed.
That's not to say the town is hostile towards the Justice League, they just firmly felt that their hero had it covered, so why bother? Especially since the GIW didn't really affect any of the townspeople's lives. Apparently Phantom had saved the town from destruction on multiple occasions, had even altered reality at some point though how still escapes most of the residents and the JL Dark members.
All this to say: Magic doesn't concern itself with human laws, so why would a British bastard of a Laughing Magician care to dig into buried American Laws?
Red can't even be fucking mad about it.
This is untrue, because Red can be mad about it. If more people were trained to Bat Standards this would have never happened. Also, Red has a skill in being mad about every little thing that can be imagined and more that can't. Most Bats do, which brings him back to the aforementioned Bat Standards that should be, for lack of a better word, standard in the industry.
Regardless, the end result means that a government agency was allowed to roam and grow to become well and truly an issue, so now Red has to try and fix it.
Secretly. Without anyone knowing.
Most significantly because his family doesn't want him involved in any conspiracies outside Gotham at the moment, considering they just found out about his wholeâŠstint with the LOA involving a high body count and a now lost spleen.
Needless to say, Red Robin is basically grounded. At the very least, Red is thankful that his metaphorical room in this case is the entirety of Gotham, and not the Manor. He doesn't even live there anymore, but he knows Penny One would find a way.
Red sighs as he picks up a mission report form that was supposed to be filled out months ago, stuffed in one of the drawers in Constantine's desk.
Clearly, this is not the place to be. He doesn't know what he was expecting honestly, the older man doesn't even come here that oftenâhe usually stays at the House of Mystery if he can.
The Amity Park issue was so long ago, and it was a fool's hope to think that Constantine would have an organized filing cabinet of his cases.
Maybe he just wanted to break into something. Feel even a modicum of thrill.
Maybe he just didn't want to face the fact that he missed something so big when he looked into Amity Park all those years ago. The only reason Red even found out about it now is because someone has been going around blowing up buildings and are not even being particularly slick about it.
He's also kind of reeling at the idea that he may or may not have recognized the culprits due to the fact that he had been checking in on Phantom moreâŠexcessively than his other past cases.
It's not enough to be a problem yet, but still. The idea that it could have gotten worse gnaws at him. Tim has always had a hard time stopping himself within boundaries. Something about his childhood being nothing but boundaries, he supposes, but now is not the time to psychoanalyze himself.
Maybe some part of him knew something was wrong when he had gone undercover as Daisy for funsies.
Maybe some part of him saw something, something that wasn't concerning enough to do anything about, but gave him enough of a gut feeling that he felt the need to keep tabs on the other hero.
Yeah, that's probably it.
"I mean," Red mutters out loud to himself as he places the papers back where they belong, "my gut wasn't wrong. Look at the situation now."
The situation being a government agency getting their buildings blown up by Phantom and his friends, and a law that needs to be repealed urgently without revealing his involvement.
The room, predictably, does not answer back or even acknowledge his actually very reasonable statement.
Clearly, he needs to listen to his gut more. That, and not talk to himself.
Habits die hard when you're used to a helper in your ear. Static starts to crackle in his comms. He had put a temporary sort of EMP effect on his trackers and communication devices so that nobody could track him, and time is clearly running out.
He swiftly makes his way out of Constantine's quarters through the vents, traversing through towards the middle of the Watchtower.
He'll go through different channels to get those laws repealed, maybe have it come to the attention of Diana or even Hal. Yeah, Hal would be the choiceâhe'd never suspect Red of manipulation. He still thinks Red was joking about the 99 clone thing.
By the time he drops into one of the empty conference rooms he has an almost fully fleshed out plan on gaslighting Hal into thinking he sent Diana a report about the Anti ECTO Laws. The static in his comms have cleared, and as he stretches to get his limbs back in order Babs' voice flickers in his ear.
"Red, why are you at the Watchtower?" The skepticism and suspicion would hurt, if Red didn't know he always deserved it.
"Sightseeing." Red shrugs, trotting out of the room towards the nearest Zeta. "The views are stunning up here."
"I don't believe you." Babs's voice is as flat as a piece of paper. "But I know you won't tell me, so I'm picking you to deal with Condiment Man."
Red immediately whirls around, zipping towards Black Canary's office area. "Sorry Oracle, I have therapy."
"If it were that easy to get you to go to therapy," Dick happily cuts in, "I would believe you, little Red!"
"Dinah has a show." Steph laughs. "I'm backstage right now. Who are you gonna talk to?"
Truthfully, his family knows he does have a JL approved civilian therapist. But they also know he only sees them when he's actually feeling good and chatty, which is few and far between.
This sounds counterproductive, he knows, but he also knows it's the only time he's willing to actually face the horrors of the world. Feeling good happens often enough that Tim's mental health shouldn't be in too much danger, but those moments overlapping with the times he's chatty are few and far between.
He's working on it. Still.
"HIPPA." Red swears as his siblings all laugh and chime in with their own missions and wildly fabricated reasons why they are preoccupied. He knows this is a clearly elaborate way of bringing Red back to Gotham. It would be touching that they care so much, if he didn't know it was also just his siblings making sure he was sticking to his punishment.
"Besides," Jason chuckles, "we already drew lots."
"If you had comms on," Cass is clearly smirking, he can hear it in her voice, "you wouldn't draw the short stick."
Red grumbles and turns back around to get to the nearest zeta back to Gotham.
Today is really not his day.
===
Hal confusingly takes the credit on calling attention to the Anti-ECTO Acts.
It didn't even take Red Robin that long to do it.
It took him longer to get the gross condiment smell off his uniform, in all honesty, but it's done.
The issue has been escalated and the Founders of the Justice League are officially on the case. Red has even been placed on the support team with Cyborg and Babs on hacking duty. It'll be fun, like a little cyberhacking hangout.
Maybe once it's all said and done, his mind will rest at ease and he can mark the GIW case retired just like Phantom.
It's a nice thought.
Not a realistic thought, of course, because Red sees the plan outlined in the files before him and can already tell it's not going to be a quick process.
They want to go slow and steady with this, root it out and inform the public at large in minor doses, change the tides and what have you.
It's not a world ending threat, not with the only active Portal in Amity Park being shut down. There are of course natural portals to worry about, but those are few and far between according to Constantine.
When the JL Dark found out that the Light side was going to take over, there was a lot of ruffled feathers.
A good thing about Red foisting this off to Hal (and subsequently Bruce) is that Red didn't have to deal with that.
All in all, it takes them about half a year to get the ball rolling, and another half to make amends and put in some failsafes to ensure the Denizens of the Realms had proper protection.
Throughout it all Amity Park protests against GIW with them, rallies and throws fundraisers just for the hell of it (the JL wouldn't take the donations, adamant about fixing it and making things rightâAmity Park seemed to respect that, seemed to form a new opinion of the JL because of it).
And when all is said and done, a year after Red set out to achieve this goal the Anti ECTO Acts are repealed and the GIW barely even a speck of dust on this plane of existence.
If he did it himself, it would have been sooner but again, he was grounded and he really needed the distance between him and this case. He cannot let it be found out that he started the movement, because he wouldn't put it past any of his siblings to find out and if that happened?
Tim's fucked. Because they would start asking questions, start digging. Looking at it in hindsight, Tim can see how the misunderstandings could pile up.
The teasing would be relentless, how Tim might have a crush. He can hear Jason's voice nowâchecking in more than usual Timmy? Something good to check out?
Tim's not even going to think about Dickie's disappointment about falling into bad habits. It's not quite stalking, but that fact that it was close makes him prime fodder.
He adamantly does not think about what Steph would say. Or what Cass would not say. All of the women in his family, actually, are very relentless and cutthroat. Tim shivers.
But nowânow that it's accomplished surely he can finally put it down.
His family won't get mad at him for going outside Gotham during his supposed punishment, and he won't get embarrassed by possible misunderstandings of the situation. It's also a win-win for Daniel too.
It's a good Graduation gift for the man, if Tim says so himself: No more Bat check in on him and laws that declare his entire existence illegal thoroughly gone.
Resolved, Red Robin checks on Daniel Nightingale for the final time the day news breaks that the Anti-ECTO Acts are repealed.
Safely sequestered at Mount Justice, Red multi-tasksâpulling up as many news reports as he can on the multitudes of monitors at his disposal whilst looking for Daniel's whereabouts.
It isn't hardâHe tracks the man down to a local restaurant, gussied up with his closest friends and family. They're seated on the outside patio, conveniently in view from a street-side CCTV camera, probably for the privacy. Daniel and his cohorts are the only ones out on the deck, and they're all crowding over a phone.
A quick zoom doesn't allow him much leeway on what's on the phone, but he thinks he can match the color of the backdrop to one of the local Chicago news outlets, one that streams their reports online too.
He watches as Daniel's friends cheer in triumph, and smiles. Tucker Foley is bouncing around like a toddler at a football game, heedless of the public setting, even going so far as to accidentally startle the waitress that comes to take their order. The other, Samantha Manson, huffs and puffs as if to say finally, this should have been done sooner, quickly picking up a menu and ordering for what seems to be the whole table.
He watches as Danny cries silently on his sisters shoulder, big and hulking and incredibly relieved. His sister also took after their father, a lovely Amazonian type of woman, but her hands still look so small against her brother as she rubs his back up and down in comfort.
He watches as his friends get up to squish the siblings together into a group hug once the waitress has left, taking solace with each other like one can only do after years of fighting something together.
Red Robin smiles, accomplished and sated.
Surely, he can leave Phantom alone nowâhe's safe after all. That's the only reason he kept tabs on Danny Nightingale.
Danny Nightingale who continues to live with his sister as he begins his first year of Grad school.
Danny Nightingale who "goes ghost" and helps the dead. Danny Nightingale who submits anonymous tips on cold cases to a variety of authorities all across America.
Danny Nightingale who takes apart a pregnant professor's car "as a prank" and put it all back together again, making it run a little smoother with more safety features for the little one on the way. Who changed the oil and replaced the transmission fluid while he was at it.
Danny Nightingale who walks little old ladies across the street even though he's late for class.
Danny Nightingale who shows up to his sister's graduation with arms full of bouquets, dragging his friends along just so they can help carry moreâwho yells the loudest in the crowd ("That's my sister!") when she receives her diploma in his second year.
Danny Nightingale saves kittens.
Danny Nightingale who watches Psyche and names his motorcycle Blueberry even though it's black with vividly neon green accents.
Danny Nightingale who has the nicest blue eyes and the fluffiest black hair and the softest and goofiest and most charming smile.
Danny Nightingale who takes an extra year to graduate just so he can help his sister around the house a little bit more during her first year as a therapist.
Danny Nightingale who, he realizes suddenly, Tim has been (now, fully) stalking for six years.
Danny Nightingale who gets hired at WE and starts next month.
Tim, now twenty six and a little less delusional, wants to die.
===
Red Robin meets Danny Nightingale moments before he meets Phantom, however briefly it is, a month after he resolved to stop stalking him.
It's a boring, unassuming meeting, not fit for the heart palpitations it causes Red. It's disproportionate, how much 5 minutes with Danny actually physically in front of him affects him.
It makes Red realize this is playing with fire, and it's not even of his own volition. It makes Red realize the Universe is laughing at him constantly.
It wasn't enough that he had to lose Bernard, and Kon, and Bruce, and Jason and his parents.
Now yet again, Red Robin has to deal with the consequences of his actions, entirely because the Universe deems this funny as hell. He's sure of it, because whyâwhy would Mr. Freeze hold up this specific bank? Why would he do it at such an unreasonable time like at the beginning of Red's patrol?
Why would he do it at Danny Nightingale's chosen bank branch, literally three days after he moves to Gotham?
"Hi, uh, Red Robin right?" Danny hesitantly greets him as he grapnels to the scene.
"Yes," Red answers succinctly, because if he doesn't he might cry. "What happened here?"
The bank is a mess, but less frozen over than he thought it would be. Mr. Freeze isâŠnowhere to be seen, which means Red has to get the story stat and get away chase him down.
"Yeah I, uh." Danny scratches his neck. "I kind of handled it? He leftâŠsomewhere, but I jammed his gun so."
Danny produces said gun, frozen over and unusable to him, and with nothing else to do Red takes it.
"YouâŠjammed it." Red reiterates, because he knows Phantom has ice powers, but he wasn't aware Danny Nightingale was posing as a meta. Then again, as much as Tim stalked Danny he really really tried not to, so this is a good sign that at least something stayed hidden.
"I'm a metaâice powers." Danny explains, putting up a palm and recreating a small Red Robin logo out of ice, about 3 inches in diameter. "Can't make anything bigger than this, but, uh. Here, for your troubles."
Red takes the little sculpture offered to him, and wishes it weren't so impermanent. His brain calculatesâhe knows Phantom has ghost ice, which melts at an exponentially slower rate than regular ice. It's also sturdier so Red doesn't need to treat it like it's delicate, but he does so anyway because he's a simp and pathetic.
It will take him 12 minutes to get to the nearest safehouse with a freezer available, and if he manages it correctly he can save it forever.
It's not advisable to save it forever, but he's apparently a lost cause anyway.
"Right, thank you." Red unsticks his tongue from his mouth, getting into work mode with a lot of difficulty. Danny is much taller now, and it's been years since he's been in this close proximity to the man.
He smells fresh, which is a weird scent to note. He smells like fresh air with an icy undertone. He smells like mountain air, right at the peak where the snow caps are.
"Try not to get involved with any more rogues." Red warns Danny, "Gotham isn't the safest for metas."
"I'll be sure to keep that in mind." Danny nods, clearly waiting for Red to leave.
Red hesitatesâjust for a moment. A small weakness because what is he going to say?
Hey, I'm really sorry for stalking you for six years and figuring out your secret identity on accident, but I got those terrible laws repealed and I've been trying really hard to stop I super pinky promise?
Because that will end well.
As if the Universe agrees, one of the chunks of frozen bank cracks right above where Danny is standing.
He dives forward to grab Danny only for the other man to catch him. In the momentum Red twists them, at the same time Phantom grabs the freeze gun hooked on Red's belt, moving with the momentum. Because it is Phantom's instincts kicking in, not Danny Nightingale's, as they mostly get out of the way.
The freeze gun is tossed, as if that will do anything, at the debris as Red spins out. They're attached only by Danny's hand like some kind of dance before Red swings him back into his arms, effectively tugging Danny completely out of the way of the falling debris.
Danny, because now this is all Danny and no Phantom, stumbles backward on a small bit of icy floor. Without thinking Red hooks his arms around the man's neck, and arches back. They tumble to the floor with Red hanging off Danny as he braces their fall against the floor like some kind of bodice ripper cover.
The gun Phantom threw has banged against the chunk, cracking it in half and the fallen pieces tell Red that the entire dance number was definitely unnecessary. Red's not going to say it, but he's thinking about how Phantom used too much super strength in that throw for Danny to feasibly stay as an ice power only meta.
The entire ordeal lasts less than a minute, and Red kind of wants to laugh.
Because he's looking up at the man he's stalked for eight years and trying to figure out, desperately, how they can both get their dignity back after this.
The Universe, as if to take pity this time, somehow agrees and a loud crackling static echoes in his comms.
"Red Robin, if you're done dancing could you please take care of a bar fight gone wrong over on Maple and Plum?"
Still breathing heavily, staring directly into cobalt blue eyes that have these very compelling flecks of hazel in them, Red slowly lets go to put a finger to his ear. It's unnecessary, because he knows Danny has advanced hearing, but Danny doesn't know he knows. So, the finger.
"Why am I being sent to a bar fight?" Red asks, Danny still staring down at him with wide eyes.
"Because Waylon is involved, and I think Harley wants to play." Oracle replies, dryly.
"Copy that Oracle." A pause. "And I was not dancing, thank you. Please delete that mask footage."
Above him, Danny snorts, deciding that enough was probably enough and hefting them both up with an easy strength and low grunt that might haunt Tim for the rest of his nights.
In short order they right themselves, and it's awkward again. They don't acknowledge anything, but even though Tim is freaking out Red Robin is still on shift.
He's got people (and an ice sculpture) to save.
"Stay safe." Red says as he escapes as fast as he can, sweating and surely red under his suit. It's the bane of his existence, this awful blushing pattern that starts on his chest and crawls up his face. It's ugly, even if Bernard and Steph and Kon all said it isn't, it is to Tim.
It's the one thing he's never been able to train himself out of, and his mother used toâ
"You too, Red Robin!" Danny yells, waving when Red glances behind him. "Thanks for your service!"
Well. Nevermind. Gotham calls, and the Bats will always pick up.
He leaves a little lighter with a big smile that nobody can prove.
(And the sculpture is only a little bit melted when he finally gets it into a freezer, just the tip of the leg of the R slightly dulled. He finds a nice box for it to live in, unassuming and plastic, with a little D carved into the bottom of it. Tim takes a million pictures of the sculpture, and even manages to get a casting of it in epoxy resin just in case, which he uses frequently as a fidget at the Nest.
Sue him, it's a comfort. He won't ever get to actually see Danny again, not if he can fucking help it, so Tim will allow himself this. This one thingâtwo, if you count the substitute.
Months from now, Tim will laugh at this, because of how fitting it is that Tim's two symbols of his "relationship" with Danny are an impermanent ice sculpture and a fake resin approximation of it. There's a joke to be made here about parallels and irony, but Tim can't be bothered to think of it.)
===
Tim meets Danny Nightingale because he let his guard down.
His family are bloodhounds, and he's trying his best to obscure the fact that he's been stalking a man for over half a decade because he has no self control and is, frankly, pathetic.
He's trying really hard, and has mostly succeeded in not stalking Danny Nightingale.
The only thing he keeps track of, for the past two years, is where Danny is when he is in WE.
He's really actually proud of the progress he's made, but facts are factsâWE security footage lets Tim know which rooms are safe so that there's no chance of Tim and Danny meeting.
He does not want to ever even entertain the possibility that they would meet and Tim has to pretend, again, that he doesn't know Phantom's entire career history and Danny's work schedule by heart.
He does not even want to think of the possibility of Danny finding out about Tim's shameful stalking all those six years.
Again, the past two years don't count because Tim is only trying to avoid Danny and keep him safe from Tim and minimize any contact possible.
And then Dick calls, giving Tim a heart attack because he's so close and yet so far off the mark, and this is good, this is better than his family ever finding out about that. This is better, because now Tim just needs a game plan on howâ
"Uhm." And one disaster later, Tim's staring into the wide eyes of Danny Nightingale, clutching his bag in the lab that Tim picked randomly.
The phone call with Dick must have distracted Tim from the notification that should have alerted Tim that he was getting too close.
And everything is terrible, so he tries his best to be as formal as possible, and succeeds.
He's never been more proud of himself than in this moment. He survived. They survived.
But then of course, there's the coffee shopâbecause Tim doesn't track Danny outside, which is a flaw now. He thought he was doing so good and suddenly it's all fallen apart.
And then the phone call with Bruce, and bumping into Danny and he needs a plausible reason for all these things happening that Danny is witnessing because of course he does, and thenâ
"I could be your fake boyfriend." And in a moment of weakness he entertains the idea because his family is getting really close to discovering the truth.
It's a long moment of weakness. Butâbut that's not fair to Danny, so Tim musters up the courageâ
And then Hurricane Steph arrives, causing everything to spiral out of control yet again.
He stares at the contract in his hand, at Danny's loopy little signature at the bottom.
His life is in shambles.
===
Tim reunites with Phantom in the middle of the dance floor of his brother's wedding.
He stares up into those cobalt blue eyes again, the flecks of hazel practically glowing green.
"Red Robin." Danny breathes, but there's no time. There's no time, but Tim has to own up to it nowâhe has to. He promised himself that he would, it's just going to have to happen a little earlier than he expected to.
He wanted to be honest with Danny, to a certain extent. Not about their identities, his is entirely too tied to his family's for Tim to make that kind of decision on his own, but aboutâabout Tim's feelings. About Tim knowing Danny before, about Tim knowing way too much about Danny. He was trying to figure out how to explain himself without actually revealing their identities, and mostly even came up with something passable.
Because Danny deserves to knowâhe deserves to know, but he can't know so Tim can only try and mitigate whatever heartbreak Danny might have over someone so undeserving like Tim. After almost half a year of fake dating Tim's not fucking delusional. Danny is a good actor but he's sincere in it, he's so fucking sincere it breaks Tim into pieces.
And Tim has been taking advantage of that, has been shamelessly pretending and reveling in it. Basking in the sweet tender mercies of this man caring for him, caring about him.
And he had promised himself, if Tim could keep him, if Danny would stay, that one day he could be totally honest. That if Danny asked, Tim would tell the truth. If Danny figured it outâbecause he would figure it out, eventually, everyone close to the Bats always does at some point when the Bats get comfortable, when they trust.
And his family fucking wants to, and Tim can see how much Danny blooms under that kind of attention and he wants to cry because it's too soon, too soon.
But it's not the time for these thoughts, not at all, so Tim screws up his tears and locks them away for later.
"Phantom," he breathes back, a little broken before he tapes up all the shattered pieces, and lets himself be swept away.
When it's all over, the maelstrom of feelings does not settle. Dick and Kori are kissing passionately, Danny is cheering and screaming with the rest of his family and Tim doesn't want the sheer happiness he has on his face to fall the second he turns Tim's way.
He promised, and he will, he will. But justâjust not now.
He doesn't want to see Danny's disgust, he doesn't want to know what he looks like when he's hurt or feels betrayed. He wants to keep all those months of memories and pretending and put it in a box and shove it in the freezer to keep forever and ever.
So he runs. He runs to the Nest and sits in the dark and fidgets with the resin Red Robin sculpture.
His phone is blowing up, pinging with increasingly worried texts, and suddenly Tim can't take it anymore.
He throws the resin sculpture into the trash, and takes long frantic steps to the fridge.
He pulls out the box, yanks out the sculpture, and holds it in his hands. The box tumbles onto the floor and the clatter of it would be jarring if he caredâif he could feel anything. His hands turn red enough that frostbite might be a genuine concern, if the ice sculpture weren't so small. The water drips into a puddle at his feet and TimâTim can't help but let his tears join the mess.
"Pineapples," He whispers to himself, words lost into emptiness of the room as his hands clutch at nothing, "and myrrh."
Ten Steps To Getting Your Man (and maybe keeping him too)
"You've been working too hard, you know that?" Jazz's voice adopts that soothing tone, the one she uses for work when she breaks hard hitting truths to her patients and know that they won't handle it well. "When was the last time you went out?"
Danny opens his mouth to shoot a pithy reply, exhausted from a long day at work, but Jazz's voice interrupts him sternly. "When was the last time you had fun?"
Danny's mouth clicks shut, and he winces at how it echoes in the room. He slumps further into his arm chair, sighing as he takes off his WE work lanyard and tosses it on the coffee table. His apartment in Gotham is decently sized, being paid well as a civic engineer, but it's a far cry from being spacious.
Still, it feels entirely too empty with just him in his lonely little living room.
"I want to sayâŠ2015?" Danny finally settles on, pressing the speaker button on his phone and plopping that onto the coffee table as well. "That was the year Sam and I TP'd Lancer's house, right?"
"I thought you said that wasn't you." Danny can just imagine the face Jazz is making as she says this: brows furrowed, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose, eyes closed like she's trying to find her patience and failing, and of courseâyes, the gusty sigh of an older sister crackling over the phone. "And that was 2017."
"Ah, well, Sam and I were certainly doing something when the TP-ing happened so." Danny loftily waves a hand towardsâŠsomewhere. "Anymore of this and I might have to call my lawyer."
"All this does is prove my point." Jazz deadpans, tired of his shit.
"Really?" Danny pretends to be confused. "I thought it was proving mine."
"JustâŠtry? For me?" Jazz implores, switching tracks and pleading with him now. Damn, she knows he's weak to that tone of voiceâJazz hardly ever pleads. "Go out for coffee with a colleague, help someone out with those weirdly specific skills of yours!"
"I don't wanna hear any slanderâyou've benefited more than once from those weirdly specific skills!" Danny cuts in.
"When was the last time you rode that stupid scooter of yours?" Jazz shoots back. "Theâthe raspberryâ"
"It's the Blueberry thank you very muchâ"
"Well take the Blueberry and goâgo on a trip around Gotham! Plan an elaborate prank on your Team that takes way too many steps and whacky inventions and very complicated liesâanything to get out of the house."
"It's an apartment," Danny mumbles sulkily, his already fatigued body slumping in defeat, "and, ugh, fine. I'll try. I didn't think I'd ever see the day my responsible Big Sister would encourage me to cause mayhem."
"I'm not encouraging mayhem." Jazz argues. "But you'reâyou're not as chaotic as you usually are. Do I want you to be safe and make good choices? Yes. But that doesn't mean you have to-to change. I'm not saying you have to have shenanigans every day, but the fact that I haven't heard about any in weeks, months, maybe even longer isâŠ"
"You make it sound like my Obsession is Chaos." Danny weakly jokes. "Need I remind you my Obsession isâ"
"I just worry about you, Danny." Jazz interrupts, voice going a little low as she always does when she tries to explain her actions so Danny doesn't feel imposed upon. "With Sam busy over in Metropolis, and Tucker all the way in Jump CityâŠit feels like all you do is work and sleep. When was the last time you gave something an unnecessary upgrade or-or just took something apart just to see if you could put it back together again?"
Danny glances behind him, at the little work desk he has set up in the dining room area. It's custom, the very first thing he built when he got to Gotham in the two weeks he had free before starting his new job.
It's immaculate, cleared of any detritus seeing as Danny does not want to be anything like his parents were: callous with their experiments and letting their work bleed out into the other areas of his childhood home.
There's a row of drawers underneath it, varying in sizes and depth housing all of his tools fit snug between the bottom of the tabletop with the bottom plank attached to the bottom of the table's legs on the left-hand side. A shelf bisects the right-hand side, where his inventions live out of the way.
It's supposed to feel neat, and with a nicely placed tablecloth, can serve as a dinner table if need be.
Now, looking at it through the lens of his older sister's concern, Danny sees how dusty and lonely it looks. He remembers thinking to himself when putting up that shelf for his inventions that he'd have to hurry and think of a solution when it was full, not knowing it still isn't even remotely needed now with only three gadgets on the shelf.
Now, looking at it through the lens of a lonely workaholic, Danny sees how much it mirrors his own current state.
For a moment, he sees what Jazz is trying to tell himâsees it in the dust motes and moody lighting, neglected and shoved to the side masquerading as something else for the time being.
But it's only for a moment. Because even if he's a little lonely, that doesn't mean he's alone no matter what Jazz says.
He likes his life here in Gothamâhis neighbors leave baked goods at Danny's doorstep whenever they're experimenting for new stock for their bakery, and Danny makes the concentrated effort to get better at cooking in order to leave his overwhelming leftovers in exchange.
Lucius is a good boss, the other employees at WE are good and friendly peopleâthey have drinks on the odd Friday or Saturday, depending on if a rogue attack breaks out around their chosen karaoke bar.
Danny even has a sort of bro-ship understanding going on with Mr. Freeze! Sure, the rogue is under the wrong impression that Danny's a meta with ice powers, but it's something colorful about his life!
"I just." Jazz sighs over the phone, voice going smaller and smaller. "This isn't what I meant, when I said you had to grow up."
Danny smiles helplessly, realizing the crux of the problem now. "JazzâŠjust because I've been busy for a while doesn't mean I'm not still living life, that I'm not having shenanigans. Neighbor John and I just exchanged goods a couple days ago!"
"I don't like that you say goods like," Jazz huffs, searching for the right words, "like you're trading drugs or something."
"How dare you reduce Neighbor John's pumpkin pie to drugs. I'll have you know it was to die for!" Danny sniffs, mouth watering at the memory of the spices in the pie that made it so good. "Plus, me, Sam and Tuck video call each other every fortnight!"
Danny was even proud of the samosas he scrounged up and left on Neighbor John's doorstep just yesterday in exchange! He lost like, 3 hours of sleep over it since he came home pretty late, but it turned out amazing, thanks very much.
"The death jokes still aren't funny, you know." Jazz mutters, but Danny has known her all his lifeâthere's definitely a smile somewhere in there even if he can't see it.
"That's your opinion." Danny smirks, pushing himself up off the couch and grabbing his phone to head to the kitchen. Thinking about those samosas got him hungry, and thankfully he still has some left over. "The point is, even if I'm not causing chaos and committing minor crimes, it doesn't mean I'm completely alone and bereft."
Jazz hums in acknowledgement, sobering up a little and probably realizing how crazy it is that she's trying to encourage that side of him out ofâŠwhat, worry that Danny's fundamentally changed?
"Have I been busy?" Danny shrugs, tapping his fingers as he waits for his leftover to crisp up. "Yes. Have I been lonely? Sure, I guess I haven't had a date in a while. Am I depressed? Well, how is that any different from before?"
Jazz huffs. "I thought you were trying to assuage my worries, not exacerbate them."
Danny laughs, a little lost. When this conversation first started, he didn't understand what the hell she was trying to get at. For their entire lives she's been trying to get him to be more mature, to use his talents more, to be more focused. And now she, what, wants Danny to be a kid again? Be less busy? Neither of those things can actually happen right this second.
She knows that, he knows that, so Danny tries to parse it all out. Because at the end of the day, Jazz is Jazzâshe worries about him, and her worry is a well worn and comfortable blanket on his shoulders.
They sit together in silence for a moment, as Danny carefully picks and chooses his next steps.
"Look." Danny finally says, pressing the button to shut off the air fryer after the timer dings. "My last project is just about at the end stages. I gotta do the final presentation on it and coordinate with my team on how it's gonna be forwarded to the big shots upstairs, but after that I'm basically free."
There's a shuffle over the line, probably Jazz adjusting herself as she listens to his consolations.
"I promise I'll take a break, okay?" Danny takes a bite, his voice muffling as it fills with spice and heat and potato. "I'll even take a couple days off, maybe portal over and visit?"
"Don't talk with your mouth full." Jazz tiredly replies, before sighing. "Alright. After your project is done, come visit. What are you thinking, next week? Two?"
Danny hums, a little unsure. He hasn't started his presentation, and whilst he has an abundance of notes to help supplement it, it's not organized enough that he can really estimate with confidence how long it will take. He swallows, and makes a face. "Maybe longer than that. I gotta squeeze in some time for shenanigans after all, maybe do a little breaking and entering or something."
Jazz laughs. "I have a conference I have to fly out to for a couple of days this week. " Papers rustle over the line, Jazz probably looking through her documents. "But after that I should be back to my regular schedule for the foreseeable future so just let me know about two days ahead, please."
"Two days ahead." Danny confirms, as he shuffles to grab a glass of water, "Plenty of time for you to make an itinerary so you won't ask me impossible questions."
Jazz scoffs, back on more solid footing: well worn sibling arguments. "Asking what you want to eat for dinner is not asking the impossible of you."
"I'd argue that it's asking a lot of me, Big Sis," Danny sniffs, affecting a snooty tone. "It's your turf, how can you expect me to know what's available in your area?"
"With how many times you've visited me? Oh!" Jazz's voice goes a little saccharine, "Or is it that you've forgotten everything since it's been so long?"
Danny pouts. "Hey now, aren't I fixing that this very phone call?"
Jazz hums, neither confirming nor denying. Which, ouch.
"You handle the food," Danny bargains, "And I'll bring the amazing stories about my new adventures to entertain you the entire time?"
"Sounds like a plan, Little Brother." Jazz grins, palpable even through the tinny speakers. "Can't wait."
"Can't wait." Danny echoes back with a grin of his own, stuffing his mouth with more samosas as he finally changes the subject to something less involved in his life. "Heyâdo you think the Bats have a suggestion box? I have some opinions on Nightwing's outfit. The lack of pockets and utility belt concerns me."
Danny swallows his samosa, and burps before continuing. "Also, Tuck thinks he might be using one of those silicone butts but I think there's too much muscle definition going on there for it to be fake."
After a long moment, Jazz sighs.
Read on AO3! (Updates will be given on tumblr as well)
"No, dick," a voice hisses outside his lab, "I am not still heartbroken about Bernard!"
Danny winces at the passing thought that he might have to weather out an angry phone call just outside his door. Clockwork knows that he'd never, Gods forbid, ask someone to please take their call elsewhere more private.
He knows Sam or Val would in a heartbeat, but Danny only occasionally has a heartbeat, so he's allowed to pass. Tucker would have stopped everything he was doing to listen in on the obvious tea, but Danny drinks coffee, so. Once again, pass.
He shakes his head, trying to focus on the presentation he's supposed to be working on and miserably failing.
"It's been literal yearsâand we're still just friends," the voice continues, noticeably closer but thankfully a little more calmer. A moment passes, as the voice presumably waits for the other person to talk. "No, I do not need you to set me up on a blind date. Again."
A sigh blows out, loud enough for Danny to hear that unfortunately, the person has decided to lean against Danny's door. He checks the time and jolts, realizing that it's already 7:32pm and he's been working in the dark sinceâwhen did the sun go down?
A quick search says a little less than 2 hours ago. Shit.
His lab must look empty from the outside, and now he's stuck in here. Or worse, the person might come in and find himâthis lab is a public lab after all, used by at least three different teams on a loose communal schedule.
"What's wrong with going to your wedding alone?" The voice asks, sounding world weary. "Besides, I'm a groomsmanâwon't I just be paired up with one of Cory's bridesmaids anyway?"
Danny makes a list of pros and cons about whether or not it's advisable to turn into Phantom and fleeâah, no that won't work. There's cameras all over WE. They'd glitch, so he's not concerned about being caught, but Danny doesn't want to risk it anyway. Gotham has those Bats running around, so you can never really be too careful.
He's not illegal anymore, but he doesn't want to test Batman's "no metas in Gotham" rule. He's not technically a meta after all.
"What? No, what the hell?" The voice suddenly flusters, and to Danny's keen hearing there's a flurry of motion, like someone flailing their arms. "DickâDick! Listen. To. Me. I am not hiding someone from you guys okay?"
It's here that Danny realizes that Dick is a name, not an insult. Huh. Weird, but then, considering Danny knows ghosts named Klemper and Skulker, it could be worse.
"That was one time!" The voice sighs, suddenly subdued as if it's a well worn argument. "I don't evenâwhy would youâI know for a fact you have Babs monitor my shit. And I know for damn sure you have Tam in your pocket too. When would I even have the time??"
That does not sound healthy. Danny's face scrunches up, remembering the times Vlad left all those bugs in his childhood home. Then again, he lets Tucker track his GPS location at all times, and he knows that the rest of them use it on occasion too so maybe Danny should just mind his own business.
"Why would I even do that?" The voice is entirely out of depth now, "I am not ashamed of our family, what the fuck? I'm seriously getting whiplash. What's happening, really? Is it the wedding jitters? Anxiety about quitting the force? Did Jason die again?"
Danny perks up. Thatâwell. That sounds interesting actually. He wonders vaguely if, after the phone call, he could introduce Danny. Maybe Jazz will be happy if Danny joined a "Died Once Club."
Immediately, Danny shakes his head. Jazz would probably actually hate that. Or maybe she'd think of it as group therapy? Danny considers for a moment, before giving up on trying to predict how his sister would react. It's not like Danny would actually talk to the guy on the phone outside his door anyway.
There's a long pause as the voice waits for this so-called Dick to presumably ramble, so Danny takes the opportunity to quietly gather his things. His presentation can wait until tomorrow, orâDanny glances at his phone, next week actually. How is it already Friday? Shit.
He was supposed to try and see if any of his coworkers would have a drink with him today, to assuage Jazz's fears of him becoming a hermit. A glance around the long empty lab shows that Danny has utterly failed. He winces, realizing that's the third time he's done that in the past week.
Maybe tomorrow he'll force himself to go outside and visit his favorite coffee shop in his neighborhood for lunch. He'll take a walk, see if any elderly ladies need help crossing the mean streets of Gotham. Maybe he could volunteer?
He could take a ride around on the Blueberry, maybe go chat with some of the ghosts around Gotham and submit another anonymous note to the GCPD, or maybe send one to the BPD this time, mix it up a bit.
Jazz should be back from her conference by now, and even though she'll get mad he could portal over now and they could get dinner together, maybe?
Danny immediately tosses that thought away, he's still been knee deep in his presentation (he's never been good with powerpoints) so he hasn't really made any progress on "living his life" like Jazz has been hoping he'd do since their phone call.
It would only worry her more, at this point. Maybe he could try that Melon Bread recipe he saw on Rumblr, see if Neighbor John would appreciate the leftovers. But then againâis it really wise to gift a baker baked goods?
Too focused on being as quiet as he could as his mind wanders the possibilities for the weekend, Danny misses the end of the phone call and is therefore shocked into stillness when the door to his lab bangs open suddenly.
Danny, frozen with his bag clutched tight to his chest, stares wide-eyed as the mysterious phone caller sweeps into the room and plops heavily into the nearest chair. With a heaving sigh, the other man leans over, elbows on his knees as he presses his face into his hands defeatedly.
Danny watches in a cold kind of terror that can only come from stupid and embarrassing social situations, as the man tries to calm himself by taking deep breaths and muttering too softly to himself in words that even Danny can't understand with his advanced hearing.
"Uhm." Danny squeaks, when the man finally calms down, twitching violently when the man jolts at the sound of Danny's voice.
In quick succession, the other man bangs his knee on a table nearby as he swings himself up, hissing as he he almost topples over. He straightens back up to quickly slam a hand against the light switch by the door, knocking over several other chairs, three books, a singular beaker and an assortment of random tools along the way.
For such a short distance, it still manages to bring about a cacophony of noise. Danny would laugh if he had the capacity for it, he's sure.
Instead he blinks against the sudden harsh blare of the overhead lights, still clutching his bag, meeting the wide startled eyes of Timothy Drake-Wayne.
"UhmâŠ" Danny says again, this time drawing it out carefully and slowly. He tries to think of something, anything to say, but draws a blank. He always was a shitty artist.
"How long have you been there?" Mr. Drake, Danny isn't sure if he goes by Drake or Wayne and is feeling wrong footing for not knowing, finally asks into the silence.
Danny winces. "Long enough to feel the need to apologize. I really didn't mean to eavesdrop butâŠ"
Mr. Drake wipes a hand down his face, taking one sharp inhale, before letting it go slowly. "It'sâŠfine, Mr. Nightingale."
"Danny." Danny automatically corrects, wincing again when Mr. Drake eyes him over the hand covering his mouth. "Please, Mr. Drake, call me Danny."
"Danny, then." Mr. Drake sighs, looking like he's gained at least ten years on his shoulders. "Please, call me Tim. As cheesy and as rote as it sounds, Mr. Drake was my father."
"Right." Danny says, but doesn't know how else to continue the conversation, so once again he says, "UhmâŠ"
Come on, Nightingale, where's that sparkling wit? Danny thinks, hysterically.
"If you're done packing," Tim tiredly smiles, and Danny is dismayed to remember that Tim is actually one of his bosses, "far be it for me to keep you here. It would do wonders for my ego if you could do me the favor of keeping this matter to yourself."
"Of course!" Danny stutters, adjusting his bag so it hangs off one shoulder instead of holding it like some kind of shield. "And don't worryâI've definitely heard worse family conversations, swear on it."
Tim's smile softens in response, and Danny is even more dismayed to realize that the Gotham Gazette really wasn't lying when they said the Co-CEO of Wayne Enterprises could make bank as a model.
The entire Wayne Family could make bank as models, but only one of them is in front of Danny right now, so. Come to think of itâdidn't Tim do a whole photo spread for the Gotham Gazette recently?
He distinctly remembers abs. There were definitely abs involved.
Do not think about your boss' abs, Danny Fenton! Jazz's voice admonishes in his head.
"That's very kind of you to say Danny," Tim says and it does something to Danny to realize he apparently speaks very formally to his employees, considering how candid he was with his brother on the phone outside the lab, "and I won't hold your blatant lying against you."
Danny has half a mind to ask the other man if he'd consider holding something against him, preferably ab-related, before Jazz's voice scolds him again with a stern stop objectifying your boss, Danny Fenton!
The Jazz in his head never gets his not-so-new last name right, even though he's gotten it down even in his own head years ago.
"Absâ" Danny blurts before coughing. "That is, I'm absolutely not dumb enough to lie to one of my bosses. I'm a shit liar anyway."
Tim's eyebrows shoot up, his smile growing a little more has he huffs a laugh like he's surprised by it. Danny realizes belatedly that he probably shouldn't be swearing in front of one of his bosses either.
"UhâI mean. Anyway!" Danny can feel sweat pouring out from every single orifice in his body, which is not a thing that should be happening. He shuffles sideways until he can pass his boss safely, desperately.
Ah, shit, Danny is taller than Tim by like, a solid couple inches. This is not the time to be noticing that kind of thing, actually, and could not make Danny's life any worse.
Danny is devastatingly dismayed to realize that this angle makes the other man really very attractive, actually. Especially when the other man looks up at Danny through his eyelashes, inadvertently coquette as his really blue eyes crinkle in the corners from the smile he's sporting.
Danny's eyes are blue with little specks of green from the accident, but Tim's eyes are a whole different league. They look unreal, the kind of blue you can almost see through, the kind of blue that feel like you can reach into, like liquid crystal.
Tim is, truly unfortunately, the perfect kissing height. He didn't even know that was a thing until right this second and he's kind of losing his mind about it. He's seen this man half naked on magazines and did not feel a thing. How is it that meeting the guy in person and seeing him laugh that tiny laugh suddenly makes him real?
Like, wow, okay, how can a man this handsome be so severely cute? Suave and cute should not be a thing that goes together, ever, and is actively a hate crime. Against Danny, specifically.
It's kind of ridiculous, actually. Like, Danny's seen hot people before, okay? He was like stupidly attracted to Sam and acted perfectly fine like, 80% of the time and that was when he was a truly horrendous ball of hormones and lust. The point is, he has eyes, sure, but it's never been a problem with his mouth before.
Thinking of mouths is genuinely the stupidest thing to do right now, actually.
"Have a nice day, Tim." Danny rushes out, opening the door hurriedly and just barely managing not to use any extra strength. "Promise I'm better at keeping secrets than I am at lying, bye!"
There might be chuckles in response, maybe even an actual reply, but Danny is too busy shutting the door behind him and fleeing.
It's fine. Tim rarely ever comes to this corner of the research labs, today was definitely just a flukeâhe'll never have to see the guy again and therefore never have to deal with whatever the hell awkwardness that was.
Even if he's a damn good sight to see and probably worth the awkwardness.
"What?" Danny asks as innocently as possible, sniffling as the cold hits his face.
It's moments like these that remind Danny of the stark differences between his human form and his ghost form. "No, I definitely had at least eight hours of sleep."
"Why does that sound fake?" Sam's voice takes on a skeptical tone, which is fair, because it is fake. Not that Sam needs to know that. "Are you lying to me, Danny Nightingale?"
"I wouldn't dare." Danny lies, again. "I remember the last time I did, and what you did in retaliation."
The pointed silence that garners only hurts a little bit. Just a little.
Thankfully, a noise signaling another caller has joined prevents Sam from hissing any threats.
For now.
"Sup, how are my two main squeezes?" Tucker's cheerful voice rings in, loud enough that Danny has to move the phone away from his ear. "Everything tubular?"
"That is definitely not how Californians talk." Sam scoffs, despite the fact that she doesn't actually know with full certainty whether it is or is not.
Tuck clicks his tongue and begins to jab at Sam with exactly that fact. Danny lets their bickering wash over him as he continues on his stroll through Gotham, heading to his favorite coffee shop just a couple blocks away from his apartment.
They make this Irish coffee that warms Danny down to his bones, only available because the cafe serves as a bar in the night time.
It's cold, still in the beginnings of Spring, even though Winter's influence still lingers in the air. Gotham especially seems to cling to it, but cold as he might be in his human form Danny's always loved it. He'd rather the cold than mind melting heat.
When Danny shifts his attention from dodging a Gothamite to get to the door of his cafe, he sees Tim smiling at an old lady he holds the door open for her. When he looks behind him to check for more people, he makes eye contact with Danny. Both of them blink at each other, startled and smiling awkwardly.
The other man is no less handsome than he was yesterday, but Danny is surprised to find that it's not as embarrassing to see the man as he thought it would be. Danny's surprised by how fine he is actuallyâit must be the influence of Sam and Tucker's presence even if only through the phone.
"Enough." Sam sighs as Tim gestures for Danny to go ahead. "Can we get to the point?"
"The point being what," Danny goads, nodding his thanks to Tim and going in. He gestures for Tim to go ahead of him in line, which Tim shakes his head to only to capitulate when Danny insists silently. "That even in our thirties you guys still argue like a married couple?"
Tucker and Sam squawk and squabble at that, which makes Danny chuckle. It's his favorite bit, even when he and Sam were dating he would always playfully accuse Sam of cheating on him with Tucker, which always guaranteed both of them gagging in disgust.
In unison. Every. Single. Time.
"The point," Sam huffs, "is we need to figure out what we're going to be doing for your Death Day."
"What we always do, Sam." Danny drawls, focusing on Tim's back in front of him to make sure he's not too close but not lagging in the line either. "Overthrow the government and ban Christmas."
The shorter man is dressed down in a way that surprises Dannyâthough he supposes he shouldn't be. Tim is younger than Danny by at least a couple of years, despite his many accomplishments, and Danny loves his jeans so he shouldn't be surprised that Tim does too.
He looks very good in ripped jeans and a creamy white cable knit sweater. The slate gray peacoat makes the outfit more mature, though the bright red scarf wrapped around the other man's neck makes him lookâŠcute. Like Danny could sweep him up to keep him warm. Not that Danny could really do that, considering Danny runs cold most of the time. And because Tim is his boss, technically. Also, Danny and Tim have met only once.
Okay, there are a lot of reasons Danny can't do that. But a half-man half-ghost can dream, can't he?
After a moment of taking in Tim's outfit, Danny squints, smiling because Tim is clearly returning the favor from yesterday as he laughs quietly at Danny's joke. It makes Danny feel accomplished, making someone laugh has always put him in a good mood.
Nevermind that it was a handsome man he made laugh. That's unrelated.
"The end is nigh," Sam intones, playing along as Tucker cackles maniacally like a cartoon villain in the background. "Capitalism never stood a chance."
Danny chuckles as it becomes his turn to order.
"One Irish coffee, pleaseâ" Danny requests the barista softly, paying for his drink and tossing the change into the tip jar before addressing his friends again. "Why are we even planning this early? D-Day isn't until next month."
He searches for a spot to wait, only to find Tim subtly scooting over to make room in the surprisingly crowded waiting area. He shuffles in close, but not too close, very aware of all those terrible, terrible thoughts he had yesterday about Tim'sâŠeverything.
"Because if we don't, you knuckleheads would never think to make time for it."
"I resent that." Tucker argues, "My Baby keeps a tight ship around here."
"Are you still calling your stupid PDA your baby in your thirties?" Sam sneers.
"Now that I think about it, Jazz was thinking about signing us up for an adult camp." Danny hurriedly cuts in between that familiar argument. Unlike the others, it always gets tiring real fast. That and the Meat vs Vegan Debate. "You know, the one that Dash opened recently a couple hours from Amity?"
"Oh yeah," Tucker hums thoughtfully, thankfully distracted, "the one that rips off that horror movie, with the camp counselors, right?"
"Camp Eerie," Sam agrees, "with the extra E to follow the horror movie theme he's got going on. He bought up an acre by Lake Erie with the money he made playing college football."
"And with some investment from your allowance." Tuck chimes in, which garners Sam's protestations in a thankfully more harmless way than the other topic.
Sam doesn't get an allowance anymore and has in fact cut herself off from her parents long ago, but there's no denying that she did get a sizable allowance that she invested into stocks back in high school in order to establish financial independence.
Now, she's a fresh face at the Daily Planet and is slowly but surely trying to make her way into the political intrigue world by learning the ropes from the infamous Lois Lane. Now that he thinks on it, Wes is there too isn't he? He recalls Sam saying something about a Jimmy or Johnny or otherâŠ
He's distracted from their bickering and his wayward thoughts when Tim's voice startles him.
"Hello?" Tim hesitatingly asks, but when Danny turns he realizes it's not to him, it's to his phone. "Jason? Why are youâ"
Tim cuts off, before closing his eyes in clear frustration. "You're like the fifth person to call me about this. I am not hiding someone. What the fuck?"
Danny blinks, momentarily distracted. That's the second time he's heard Tim talk about hiding someone, which brings up the question: Has Tim hidden someone from his family before?
Also, hearing Tim swear and seeing his mouth shape the words somehow startles Danny even more. It shouldn't, considering the entirety of, well, yesterday's phone conversation he heard but still. It's startling, is all. He spoke so formally yesterday with Danny.
"Why do you even care? Why would I hide an entire relationship for that long? What benefit would I gain from this?" Tim's lovely face (all rosy from the cold and snuggled under his scarf) scrunches up in an irritated manner, though he remains composed enough to peaceably walk up to the counter to pick up his drink and smile at the barista. "All this hypothetical hiding has done is make you guys more nosy. Make it make sense."
"Irish coffee for Danny?" the barista calls next, which shakes Danny out of his stupor. He makes his way to the counter to grab his drink, only to realize the barista is not the only one calling his name.
"-anny? Danny!" Sam practically yells in his ear in tandem with Tucker, as Danny watches Tim leave the cafe hissing into his phone. "Helloooo?"
"Sorry, sorry." Danny rushes out, feeling guilty and waiting a bit so that he doesn't inadvertently follow the other man. "Got distracted. So, Camp Eerie for D-Day, yeah?"
They make solid plans, Danny making mental notes to text Jazz about it, or at least bring it up the next time he sees her.
"What's got you so distracted anyway?" Tucker asks, once plans have been set and lives have been updated.
"Yeah, Dannyâ" Sam cuts in before Danny can even pretend to be confused. "I can feel the focus slipping all the way over here in Metropolis."
"I bumped into Tim today." Danny finally decides to say, after checking to see the man in question is nowhere around. "Tim Drake-Wayne I mean. Again."
"You met Timothy Drake-Wayne multiple times and you didn't tell me???" Tucker screeches, causing Danny to wince and pull the phone away from his ear for a second.
"I've, uh, kind of accidentally eavesdropped on like, two of his phone conversations now. Once yesterday and now today."
"So?" Sam questions, "Is it something juicy? If it's private I have to remind you I'm a reporter now."
"As if you would stoop so low as to resort to gossip articles about the rich and famous." Tucker scoffs, but quiets down when Sam hisses at him like a cat. She does that, unironically. Has been doing it since she was little apparently. It still brings Danny great joy to this day.
"Off the record thenâ" Danny laughs, trying to think of a way to parse out what he's thinking. "From what I gather, his family thinks he's hiding a relationship from themâand is very bothered by it."
"And that bothers you because�" Sam asks, trailing off in confusion. "That sounds like a typical family thing?"
"He's apparently gotten five calls about it, from different people at least." Danny takes a sip of his drink, relishing the warmth, "And apparently it isn't the first time he's done it."
"This still sounds very normal." Tucker asks suspiciously. "Val hid her relationship with me and you from her dad because of how overprotective he is of her."
"WellâŠI justâŠ" Danny trails off, unsure. "He just sounds very adamant that there's no-one, but none of his family believe him andâŠ"
"What, and you wanna volunteer your fake boyfriend services?" Sam scoffs.
The silence is deafening, and Danny feels like he might die. Again. For the third time.
"Oh my god." Tucker exhales, disbelieving. "Oh my god you've watched way too many Hallmark movies. Christmas was over four months ago buddy!"
"That, or the Star Trek fanfic got to him." Sam is rolling her eyes at him on the other side of this receiver, he can definitely tell. "Is your favorite tag #FakeRelationship by any chance?"
"You have no leg to stand on!" Danny argues, turning red. This did not go as he thought it would. "Miss fake out make outs."
"Have you considered that he doesn't want to prove his family right?" Sam shoots back, ignoring the nickname altogether. "That's if he accepts your offer by the way."
"Plus," Tucker adds, dragging out the vowels as if he's thinking aloud, "how do you know he really isn't hiding someone?"
"I could offer to be his fake boyfriend of however long they think he's been hiding me," Danny counter offers, ignoring Tucker completely. "And then we can stage a really big break up?"
"That's a lot of HR headache to offer to one of your bosses." Sam reminds him, gritting her teeth before mocking him. "Being a walking OSHA violation wasn't enough?"
"It's only a violation if he asks me." Danny loftily reminds her. After a moment, he adds in belatedly, "And he's not technically in charge of my department."
"Yeah, because he's technically he's in charge of your entire company, Danny." Sam stresses. "Which includes your department."
"...That's a minor technicality." Danny retorts after a moment, biting his lip.
"There's still the technicality that there might actually be someone already..." Tucker singsongs insistently, which hurts. Danny thought Tucker would have agreed if only for the entertainment value. He's the one that got Danny into those stupid Hallmark movies anywayâit's the only aspect of the Christmas season he even remotely likes, just by how stupidly corny they are.
Everything else about the holiday can burn, in his humble opinion. Though, ever since Jazz and him separated from their parents they've been making their own traditions about it instead, so it isn't as bad now.
"Well, maybe me being a substitute will help get the heat off this mysterious hidden person." Danny weakly sniffs back as he makes his way up the stairs to his apartment. He had looped around the neighborhood during their call, just so he wouldn't be pacing back and forth in his apartment. It was barely an hour long outing, and he's already dead tired.
"You can't be serious, Danny." Sam sounds helpless, and confused. Which is honestly fair. He doesn't know where this came from either. "That's an insane idea, even from you."
"Jazz thinks I'm not having enough fun." Danny tries to argue, playfully of course. "This is me, having fun. I'd be a really good fake boyfriend!"
"On what basis?" Tucker genuinely asks. "You were a great real boyfriend, far as I could tell as your totally unbiased best friendâ"
"Can confirm." Sam grumpily and clearly begrudgingly cuts in, though Tucker simply ignores her and continues.
"But a fake boyfriend?" Tucker sounds imploring now, "be so for real right now Dannyâyou'd get too invested. Not that that's a bad thing! It's good that you're so caring! That's what we love about you."
"Regardless," Sam adds in, not letting Danny have any time to even process whether or not Tucker is insulting him or complimenting him. "You barely know the guy. Unless there are more incidents that you haven't been tell us about?"
"I didn't think you guys would take this so seriously." Danny grumbles, before huffing, "It was just the two times."
"It better, not telling me right away is already an affront to our best friendship just FYI." Tucker grumbles.
"We take it seriously because we have to be careful about you manifesting this kind of energy in your life," Sam emphasizes her words, as if they're supposed to mean anything to Danny, "since, as you seem to be ignoring, he's your boss. Things could get messy real fast you know."
"It was just an idea." Danny grumbles, cowed and hurt by it. "It works in the moviesâit's Tucker's fault that I'm predisposed to crazy ideas like this by the way."
"Just be content admiring your boss from afar and move on," Tucker consoles, laughing a little to soften the blow as he tack on in a joking tone, "this is not a unique experienceâSam would totally jump Lois Lane's pants if she had the chance!"
Sam sputters in a mix of flustered rage, and Danny lets out a sigh as sinks into his beloved armchair. He lets their bickering wash over him, a comforting sound that warms him just as much as, if not more than, the drink in his hand.
He sips, chiming in with a comment or two, a little disappointed but not surprised. Seeing his boss twice in as many days was a funny little coincidence, like some kind of novel or movie, so Danny couldn't really help himself with his runaway thoughts. It was a silly idea, but again he didn't really think his friends would take it so seriously.
He was just sort of kind of joking, why are they acting like he would actually do it? He's said crazier things in their youth. Tucker has said even more insane things, and don't even get him started on Sam's "righteous justice."
It all makes him feel kind of foolish. But, he guesses some things have to be rooted in reality now that they're adults. Maybe this is what Jazz meant when she said he was changing. He just didn't think it extended to his best friends too.
They used to talk all sorts of hypotheticals back in the dayâand hell, their lives with the Realms involved is nothing less than weird.
Oh well. He went on his mini adventure, and that's all that he set out to do today so he'll take the win.
It really was fun to think about though, even if it got taken way too seriously. Danny isn't that unhinged, thanks very much.
After all, Danny never actually intended to offer Tim to be his fake boyfriend.
In lieu of AO3 getting shut down im updating a little early!
No intro snippet this time, for humor reasons. gonna have to click the "keep reading" to see it :)
Edit: forgot some people are whiney /j @agentnavi @chromatographic
===
"I could be your fake boyfriend." Danny blurts out, feeling like he's having an out of body experience.
His mind is kind of spinning right now. He's not sure how he got here. Perhaps this is all an elaborate dream Nocturne has trapped him in, or wires got crossed with Ghost Writer. Danny doesn't even want to entertain the thought that Desiree might be involved. He hasn't said the words I and wish consecutively since he was a teenager and growing facial hair in a very unfortunately patchy pattern.
He was only supposed to be going through the team notes on the final (final_final_thistimeforREALfinal.pptx) presentation, not sitting across from Timothy Drake-Wayne, Co-CEO of Wayne Industries and kind of sort of his boss and doing the exact thing he wasn't supposed to be doing.
"Wait, really?" Tim perks up from where he was slumped on the table. "I was kind of joking but you'd really be doing me a huge favor. It doesn't make you feel uncomfortable?"
Maybe it's the setting that's doing it. Tim looked so sad and vulnerable and defeated, Danny couldn't stand it. He barely knows the guy, but he knows it's been a hellish couple of weeks for the man.
Before, Danny had thought he would never see Tim down at the labs ever again. After the coffee shop sighting, he'd thought it was just a couple of freaky coincidences. But now that they've broken the seal apparently, it seems like Tim is actually a more frequent visitor of the basement labs than he thought and Danny has justâŠnever noticed him.
He's seen Tim march back and forth between labs at least three times now, a trail of secretaries and scientists and engineers and even a janitor following the man around as he hops between projects like a particularly well postured bunny. It's never a large grouping, Tim seeming to always focus on only two or three people at a time, but it's still strange for Danny to not have seen, or rather noticed before.
He had subtly probed his coworkers, and apparently this isn't a new thing at all. Apparently Tim does this every Spring Season, when the projects are back in full swing after the holidays. And Danny has just. Never noticed.
And those three times alone tell Danny Tim's been harangued by not only his family, but an abundance of work projects that are coincidentally having issues left and right.
It made Danny pity the man, especially when he witnessed young Damian Wayne practically accost Tim about his so-called paramour in front of not one, but four upper managers in the Lobby of WE quite literally two days ago.
(Not that Danny's weeks haven't been a walk in the park either.
Working on a presentation on a project involving more than 14 members across two different teams isâŠ.not very easy to say the least.
Thankfully Danny's only in charge of providing information and correcting data, even though people keep changing his corrections for some gods damned reason.
Still, it shouldn't take weeks to do one single powerpoint presentation. Don't even ask him who will be in charge of actually presenting the damn thing, nobody will actually answer or volunteer.)
And now, through a series of circumstances Danny still isn't sure of, they've ended up bumping into each other just a block away from Neighbor John's bakery. Quite literally too, as Danny somehow failed to perceive the other man sulkily recovering from, apparently, a terribly exhausting phone call with his father.
His father, Bruce Wayne, the Big Guy Upstairs. Danny tries very hard not to think about it.
(He likes Bruce Wayne, really he does. He's a better billionaire than Vlad ever was or even will be and seems like a genuinely funny and charming guy.
The problem is that even though he feels genuine when he smiles and takes care of his employees, Danny just can't shake this weird feeling that the guy is hiding something.
After finding out that Lex Luthor is just as much of a shit-head as Vlad is, Danny has had a very low tolerance for billionaires.
The problem is that against all odds, Danny likes Bruce Wayne despite knowing the guy is hiding something. Because the guy has done some good stuff for Gothamâeven the world. Enough that Danny feels a tiny smidgen of hero-worship, along with his really nice direct boss Lucius Fox.
Bruce Wayne and Lucius are the kind of people Danny wished his parents wereâthe kind of people Danny's parents could be if they weren't so stuck on ghost hunting. if they weren't dead set on their preconceived notion that ghosts are Bad, and Unfeeling, and Terrible.
All this to say: Danny's conflicted and he doesn't like that so he tries not to think about it.
He takes his hero-worship of Bruce Wayne and Lucius with a large grain of salt, so he doesn't feel too disappointed if they prove him wrong one day.)
The point is, when he bumped into Tim and caused the man to drop his coffee (thankfully onto the ground) Danny had offered one of his newly acquired pastries in consolation. Tim, either due to being so broken from the phone call, the coffee, or just Too Tired to keep up pretenses any longer, accepted it silently without even a token protest.
Soon enough, they had found themselves an outdoor table at a park nearby, an agonizingly quiet five minutes away, munching on pastries together.
Danny took the time to tell Tim about inane thingsâthe stars, some weird shit about astrology he learned recently from Sam, about the perils of powerpoint presentations and group projects threatening to ruin his weekend and beyond, how he'll see Jazz over the weekend and how it's been a while, anything he could really think of in the moment.
He spoke lowly, yapping mindlessly as they chewed their pastries until there were only crumbs leftâuntil Danny gathered their trash and tossed them.
And in the time it takes Danny to try and regather his thoughts and figure out more topics appropriate to babble about to your sort of boss, the floodgates start to creak open.
Tim told him all about itâhow his family is convinced he's hiding someone, how Tim had felt angry at first, before the resignation flowed over him.
How, in his family's defense, Tim has never been good at opening up. His other siblings are adopted, just like he was, but Tim wasn'tâTim and Bruce's relationship was different.
How Tim is at a loss because now he knowsâhis family isn't mad at him for hiding this non-existing person, his family are worried.
Worried that Tim feels left out, that Tim doesn't feel comfortable enough to share his life with them, that Tim doesn't care.
Which, clearly, isn't the truth at all.
And then the reason Danny's in this terrible predicament had been breathed out into the world.
"I almost wish I did have a person to hide, it feels like I'd disappoint my family if I didn't." Tim, head in his heads, had grumbled desperately. There was a manic tinge to his words. "Maybe I could hire an actor, or something."
That's when Danny's mouth worked faster than his brain did. And that's where they're at nowâDanny offering to be his boss's fake boyfriend.
"Wait," Tim continues as Danny's heart races unevenly. It feels like it's about to skid out on black ice, and he's on edge because of it. "This is technically an HR violation isn't it?"
"I offered." Danny's tongue unsticks itself, because of course it does. "And you're not technically my boss."
Tim thinks on that for a moment, and Danny shouldn't be finding the man tilting his head like a puppy so cute. But he does, fuck, he does. "IâŠsuppose you're right. It does lend credibility."
"Credibility?" Danny echoes, still kind of out of his body.
"On why I would hide it." Tim shrugs, before making a face. "Now that I'm calmer I just realized how terribly rude I've been. I'mâŠso sorry for dumping all of that on you."
"Don't be." Danny shrugs back, thinking hysterically about what he's going to tell his friends. Or, Ancients forbid, what he's going to tell Jazz. "Sometimes it's easier to open up to a stranger."
Tim wipes a hand down his face, sighing. "Still, I shouldn'tâ"
"I've always wanted to be part of a Hallmark movie." Danny interrupts, as if that makes any sense whatsoever.
Tim laughs, like it was punched out of him, and Danny should not be feeling immense pride about being the cause of it.
After a moment of gathering himself, Tim smiles a little helplessly words a little more formal again, "It's really nice of you to offer, but I'm not sure if we shouldâ"
"I knew it!" A shrill voice startles both of them, Tim's eyes going wide-eyed in panic. Danny turns to see a woman stomping her way towards them almost angrily, if it weren't for the victorious smile she's sporting.
"Fuck." Tim breathes out, but Danny can't focus on that. The woman looks like a shark in the water, and Danny and Tim are the chum buckets.
When the woman finally arrives at their table, she slams her hands down hard enough to shake the table, causing both men to jolt and scooch away in haste. The woman, a blonde woman with dagger sharp eyes that reflect aquamarine in the light, points at Danny as she continues to yell at Tim.
"I knew you were hiding someone, I knew it!" The woman's finger is dangerously close to Danny's eye, so he delicately pushes it away with his own finger. She doesn't even flinch, or even care. "You thought you could hide it from us, from me, but I'm here to tell you you failed."
"Stephâ" Tim sighs, shooting an apologetic look at Danny before frowning up at the newcomer. "At the risk of sounding cliche it's seriously not what it looks like. Danny isâ"
But Steph isn't having it, she beams and faces Danny instead, ignoring Tim altogether. "Hi, Stephanie Brown. It's nice to finally meet you Danny!"
Danny, with not much else to do, smiles and shakes the proffered hand with a firm but not too firm grip. "A pleasure."
Tim grabs Steph's wrist, yanking it away from Danny and forcing her to look at him. "Steph, I am not joking, Danny isâ"
"Save it, Tim-ochio." Steph twists to break free from his hold, opening her hand wide and pressing Tim's face away from her whilst also preventing him from speaking any further. "Listen, Danny. Here's my number. I expect a text, and you can expect the rest of the family to find out soon enough. I'm sorry, I really amâI went through it when I went out with this guy too."
Danny takes the card. "Ah, so you are that Stephanie Brown..."
He remembers when the tabloids exploded at the reveal of their relationship when they were teens, remembers the candids and the occasional awful things they had said about the then teenage girl, even all the way in Amity Park. He remembers, most of all, how their break up articles were very subdued, almost like Gotham was being delicate about it for once.
Sam had said that the Waynes had done something, but she still hadn't really explained what and Danny was too young to really care about it much beyond thinking at least they will stop picking on her now.
Not that it stopped the tabloids when Steph began dating Cassandra Cain instead, but he thinks there are less scathing comments about them now, in fear of hate crime accusations.
"Yes. I am. But you should already know that I'm dating this guy's sister now, so I'm not a threatâeven if I wasn't, been there, done that." Steph rolls her eyes, handily still tussling with Tim like they're toddlers and not in their, what, late twenties? "Listen, this is important. I expect that text because I am your ally, okay? This family? Fucking nutso. I love them, I do, but there's a reason he hid you from us and I don't blame him."
Danny chuckles at that. "I can imagine. And yet here you areâŠ"
"I don't blame him," Steph grits, bopping Tim on the head and toppling his chair so that the man falls on the ground with a groan, "but I am still mad at him for it because ex status not-withstanding, I am still his best friend last I checked. But that's not your fault soâtext me, okay? I'll give you all the deets that I'm sure this fool has kept from you."
"I'll text you." Danny agrees amiably, as he gets up to help Tim to his feet. Steph beams as Tim sputters.
"Danny, you don'tâ" Tim starts, but Steph bowls him over to give Danny a hug. She leaves just as quickly as she arrived, waving boisterously.
"Welcome to the family, Danny!" Steph yells as she runs away from Tim throwingâŠsomething. A shoe? Danny looks down. Yep. One of Tim's very expensive shoes is missing. Looking back up Steph sticks her tongue out at Tim, before yelling over her shoulder. "And good luck!"
The silence that follows in the wake of Hurricane Stephanie is loud, but peaceful. Danny is weirdly calm now, in the chaos. He's always been good at going with the flow, and he's used to dealing with chaos, so this feels like he's now on solid ground.
It's almost comforting, nostalgic, even. Harking back to the days Sam and him faked it until they made it.
(And then, of course, realized that it would have never worked out long term. That's not the entire story, but it is what it is. It took them years to figure it out, and though it's different now they still love each other and that's all that matters.)
He helps Tim to his seat, before going over to collect the man's shoe. When he comes back, Tim has his head in his hands again, looking like he's aged a million years and is desperately wondering why he hasn't crumbled into dust yet.
"I am," Tim mutters through his fingers, "so very sorry."
Danny huffs a laugh through his nose, smiling as he crouches down to help Tim put his shoe back on. "My offer still stands, if that helps?"
Tim sighs dramatically, hands dropping and looking very downtrodden again. "It does, but only a little bit."
"Ouch." Danny jokes, taking his seat again. "I'll try not take that personally."
"It's nothing against you!" Tim hurriedly rushes out, "I just feel so guilty!"
"Why?" Danny tilts his head, genuinely confused. If anything, this entire situation is being unfair to Tim. It was his family that misunderstood and refused to listen, and even though Tim was just grumbling out of frustration Danny was the one who decided to offer semi-seriously.
"Well, now you're stuck with me. Your boss." Tim reminds Danny, but when he opens his mouth to refute Tim raises a hand to stop him. "I know I'm not technically your boss but there are still lines."
"But it lends credibility." Danny smugly cuts in, throwing Tim's own words back at him almost pettily. Tim eyes Danny, squinting as if he isn't sure what the hell Danny is doing. Which is fair. Danny doesn't really know what he's doing.
"It lends credibility." Tim sighs, agreeing and gracefully letting Danny have the win. He rubs his temple as if staving off a headache. "If we're actually going to do this, we'll have to establish ground rules. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, and I know I can getâŠparticular, so it'd be best to let you know up front so I don't get snippy about it."
"I am all for rules." Danny gives Tim two thumbs up, lamely. "Consent is sexy."
Tim's eyebrow twitches, making Danny afraid he's crossed a line for a moment before he realizes Tim is trying not to laugh. He's biting his lips and looking away from Danny, but he can see the way the corner of Tim's mouth is struggling not to go up.
Danny feels like he could take down his entire ghost menagerie in 3 minutes flat, he's so pumped with serotonin.
"Right. So." Tim coughs, trying to hide his smile. "Maybe a contract, then?"
"The movies never really talk about the actual logistics of being in a fake relationship." Danny thinks aloud, realizing how reckless those movies actually are. But then again, that's part of the fun isn't it? "But I guess from your position it would have to be a necessity."
Tim looks a little apologetic again, a now familiar look that Danny is starting to hate, and doesn't disagree. He starts to gather his things, prompting Danny to do the same as he pulls out his phone. "I'll call us a driver, and we can draft up the contract as I drop you off home."
"Just one thingâ" Danny gently places a hand on Tim's arm, stopping him from moving away or pressing call. "My uh, friends will probably know."
"Know?" Tim's brows scrunch together, and Danny can't really handle how cute his boss is and how embarrassing this is gonna be for him. "Know what?"
"That I offered to be in a fake relationship with you. I was uhm. Kind of joking about Hallmark movies a couple weeks ago?" Danny mumbles, smiling sheepishly. "S'kinda why I had the idea in the first place. Fresh in the mind and all that."
In the end, they decide to write the contract on spare piece of paper found in Tim's briefcase in Danny's shitty little living room.
Tim had veto'd using Danny's laptop and his idea to email Tim a copy, on account of a close family friend apparently being nosy enough to look through his stuff and find it. On that vein, Danny had pointed out that maybe calling a driver hired by his family might also beâŠtelling, so he offered his house as a meeting place.
So they walk together, not quite talking the logistics of it yet for fear of being eavesdropped on (seriously, this brings up a lot of memories with Vlad, and subsequently the years where Jazz and Tucker had religiously kept track of Danny's whereabouts to make sure the creepy old billionaire wouldn't try anything) so they justâŠtalk.
And it's alarmingly easy to talk to Tim.
"So let me get this straight," Danny puts his hands up before him, putting a finger down as he lists names, "Dick is getting married to Cory, Jason is being "chicken shit" withâŠRoy, Barbara is with Kara, Cass and Steph are a thing."
Tim hums, nodding as he keeps his hands in his pockets, smiling at Danny's consternation.
Danny's head is spinning. He passively knows the Waynes, obviously, but never really concerned himself with their significant others. Even the Gotham Gazette only kept up the more public of the Wayne children. Of course, now that they have to establish they're a thing he should at least know the basics about those less public siblings. "Duke is dating Izzy, and Damian is in crush with Jon and vice versa but neither teen knows."
"And Bruce is dating," Tim does a little so-so motion with his hand, making a face that shows how much he is displeased by his father, "but we're still not sure with whoâthere are too many candidates."
"Have you considered that maybe he's not dating any of them?" Danny posits, grinning cheekily at Tim's apparent distress. "That maybe you guys are just sensitive to your old man's friends?"
"Trust me," Tim drawls, unamused and fraught at the same time, "I know what my dad is like when he's actually flirting."
Danny laughs at the disgust Tim's face adopts after that line. It's both hilarious and adorable at the same time. "What if he's dating all of them in some kind of weird polycule type situation? I wouldn't put it past Silver Fox Bruce Wayne to handle all that."
"Never say those words to me ever again." Tim points at Danny threateningly, though a flash of horror and fear goes across his face. "It's terrifying to say that I can't even rule that out. And disgusting."
Danny laughs even harder at that, wiping the tears that spring up from it as he tries to breathe. "Has anyone told you your family is messy?"
"Many times." Tim stresses, making a chopping motion with both hands like some kind of conspiracy theorist. "And the worst part is, this is only the current dating rosterâthere was a point in time when Dick was single but his best friend, coworker, and childhood friend all wanted to date him and he just. Didn't know."
"Dick Grayson," Danny says incredulously, "the Dick Grayson, who has flirted up and down the East and West Coast, and may even be internationally renowned for flirting, didn't know?"
"He thought they were just being nice to him because he was lonely!" Tim gestures, making a face like can you believe this guy???
"Jesus Christ." Danny mutters under his breath, sliding a hand down his face before a thought suddenly occurs to him. "Which one is he getting married to? It's one of the three, right?"
"The co-worker." Tim nods, flapping a hand carelessly. "But she's technically also one of his best friends, and is also a childhood friend. It's complicated."
Danny thinks about the A-listers, who have made amends with Danny long ago. He thinks about Wes, who still sends him a paper copy of Amity Park's newsletter, because he knows Danny loves the little column his old friend does breaking down government conspiracies in his down time from the Daily Planet.
He thinks about Lancer, who has done so much for Danny that it would be rude not to at least consider him a friend, or maybe even a weird uncle. He thinks about Sam and Val, of whom he still considers one of his best friends and a childhood friend, respectively, despite being his exes.
Complicated sounds just about right.
"Her name's Cory, right?" Danny asks, as they finally arrive at his apartment. "Like Boy Meets World?"
"No, it's with a K. And an I." Tim nods, watching Danny unlock the door and stepping in after him. "K-O-R-I."
Danny hums in acknowledgement, taking off his shoes and hanging his stuff by the door. He holds out his hands to take Tim's coat as well, though the other man refuses to give up his scarf. Danny turns up the heat in his apartment in response, leading his guest to the living room before making his way to the kitchen to make warm up some water.
Once they've settled in with cups of coffee, they get straight down to business.
The idea is simple: keep to as many truths as possible, and as little lies as can humanly be done.
The more lies there are, the higher the chance of something going astronomically wrong. Danny knows this from experience, and he firmly believes that Tim feels the same way with all the articles that's been released about his family.
"I mean," Tim straightens the briefcase that he's been using as a makeshift desk on his lap, "I feel like that covers all the bases right?"
"Uhm, let's seeâŠ" Danny shakes his head to get it back on track and recalling their story. "We've mostly been in a situationship for like, a year and you've been cagey and I wasn't looking for anything serious anyway so it worked for us."
"Which I'm very sorry about, and will probably be the reason we break up." Tim adds in, taking a sip of the crappy instant coffee Danny had in his cupboard.
"One of them anyway," Danny waves away, "the other being my terrible fear of commitmentâhence, the keeping it casual thing."
"So we've been doing this sort of romantic will they won't they, when Steph decides to come in all dramatic," Tim rolls his eyes, huffing, "which then, of course, pushes us firmly into the guess we're doing it now stage."
"Well, it's more like we've been doing it and nothing else until now, right?" Danny blithely jokes into his coffee, before freezing when his own words registers into his brain.
A quick glance at his Not-Boss has Tim determinedly staring straight into his coffee with red crawling up his neck. Danny mumbles an apology, wincing at himself.
This cover story has the added benefit of guilt tripping his family enough that they won't pester Danny too much, considering it's their meddling that making Danny suddenly jump into the deep end of a long term, serious relationship and therefore is making Danny feel "very very unnerved". Especially when he was supposedly under the impression that Tim was gun-shy about another relationship after his break up with Bernard Dowd, Tim's most recent ex.
It puts Danny in a certain kind of light, but he doesn't mind.
Tim doesn't know that Danny has played this kind of chicken before, when he was 14 and played "we're just friends" with Sam for three years. Senior year was a bit of a shit show, with Val dominating his Junior year, but they all worked it out in the end.
Even if Sam and Danny didn't make it past the halfway mark through college, he doesn't regret it. She's still one of his best friends in the entire world and beyond, and that's all that matters. He and Val still spar on occasion too, on good terms and everything.
The point is, even if Tim is doubtful of Danny being the kind of guy who's okay with a long situationship, Danny's been there. So he is, actually, that kind of guy.
The kind of guy who is sort of shy about commitment even though he's very open about his feelings.
You wouldn't think it because of the way affection flowers like waterfalls between them, but that's exactly what led to Danny moving to Gothamâto Jazz going to Chicago, to the siblings choosing to go by Nightingale and deciding that obsession in humans can be dangerous.
And Danny and Jazz, more than anyone, know that moderation is needed.
Which means, at the end of the day, Danny is in factâŠafraid of commitment.
He's just not sure how to convey all of that without actually admitting to anything, and now he's gone a put his foot in his mouth and tangentially hit on his boss. Hit on might be the wrong phraseâimplied past relations? Joked about being in a non-existent fake sexual situationship? His brain might be melting.
Thankfully, after a moment Tim clears his throat, keeping his eyes closed as if trying to ignore his own embarrassment. "No, no. You're right. My family knows I tend to cope with stress using physical activities. Normally that would be skateboarding or, well, my family's tendency towards extreme sports butâŠthis would work just as well."
Danny feels a kind of hunger flash over him, mouth suddenly feeling very dry. He licks his lips in an attempt to wet them, before hastily sipping his coffee again to cover that up. The still hot liquid jolts his system enough to get his brain back on track.
"Right. So." This time, Danny coughs to clear his throat. "There's no un-awkward way of asking this of you, but what's your stance on PDA?"
Tim grimaces, scrunching his still closed eyes for a moment. He blows out a breath and it's like suddenly Tim's entire countenance relaxes into a practiced pose: legs crossing after he places his mug of subpar coffee onto the table, adjusting himself so that his briefcase is set to the side and the scrap papers he'd been drafting their contract on are held carelessly in his hand.
If Danny didn't see it happening real time he would have thought Tim was unaffected but since he did, it reeks of putting on a mask for the sake of comfort.
"I am, historically, not very touchy feely," Tim sighs, papers drooping in sync as he reluctantly confesses to Danny his preferences. "But also historically, all of my significant others tend to be. IâŠlike being touched."
Somewhere in the back of Danny's mind, victory music and an imaginary crowd of other Dannies are cheering. Blaring in the forefront of Danny's mind all he can think is how fucked he is, and not even in the fun way.
"That's great!" Danny tries not to sound eager, and feels like he's failing terribly. He stutters a bit in an attempt to calm himself down as he rambles. "I mean uh, I'm known to be touchy feely even platonically soâŠno problems here, perfect, even. Coincidentally."
Danny winces. Way to sound totally normal, Nightingale.
Tim scrutinizes Danny for a moment, eying the way he fidgets. Danny feels a cold sweat roll down his spine as the other man's eyes squint a little.
Danny breaks.
"IâŠrun cold." Danny smiles sheepishly, confessing at least one truth in exchange for Tim's. "So I really like body heat. Others', I mean. Sorry if I sound so weirdly excitedâI haven't seen any of my loved ones for a while on account of living so far away and being so busy. I don't have a lot of friends here that I can be, uhm, tactile with."
A moment later, Danny realizes something terrible and hastily tries once more to reassure the other man. "Not thatâI will of course try to be very respectful of your boundaries! Likeâwe can just, hold hands?"
"Holding hands. Right." The line of Tim's shoulders relax, ever so slightly, and Danny feels like he's passed some kind of test by the skin of his teeth. It does seem like it all weirdly falls into place, which makes everything feel so suspicious.
With Tim's celebrity status, Danny wouldn't be surprised if the other man thought this was all planned by Danny in some sort of elaborate stalker move. He's sure weirder shit has happened to the Waynes, which is both sad and interesting.
Sad because nobody should have to deal with that kind of paranoia their entire lives, and interesting becauseâŠwell. Danny's life, after all, isn't all rainbows and daisies either. It's far from boring, evenânobody can argue that Danny's life out of context isn't batshit crazy.
He doubts Tim's got a secret vigilante life or a weird obsessive Bad Guy that wants to take him under his wing. He probably has never had to deal with beating up his own evil future self, or siblings trying to kill him or hellâparents that want to kill his alter ego.
Yeah, Danny's definitely still got the trophy on "Strangest Life Ever" even despite the shenanigans he's heard rich people can get up to from Sam, for sure.
Tim snaps the drooping piece of paper into stiffness, yanking Danny's wayward thoughts back into line as the other man slides his briefcase back onto his lap to write additions into the contract.
"So. PDA will be subject to circumstance but, I give you permission to touch me." Tim says gamely, though a little bit of that telling red starts crawling up his neck again, past the collar of his shirt in what is probably embarrassment. "I generally keep to hand holding on my part, but I won't mind an arm around my shoulder orâŠwell, a codeword should be handy in any case."
"Like a safeword?" Danny tilts his head, watching as Tim's handwriting stutters for a moment.
Tim coughs, and continues writing. "Yes. I'm open to suggestions."
"Pineapple?" Danny hums, weirdly mesmerized by how messy the CEO's handwriting actually is. "Myrrh?"
"Myrrh?" Tim's pretty blue eyes flicker up to Danny in confusion.
"Like, Mur-der?" Danny grins. Tim stares at Danny for a moment, unblinking, before sighing.
"Update," Tim drawls, taking out his phone to check what looks like an over-packed calendar. "I am not as open to suggestions as I thought I was."
"Boo, hiss." Danny laughs. "Where's your sense of whimsy, Mr. Drake? Your wonder and borderline fanaticism of the hit 2006 TV show Psyche?"
"Are you Shawn in this situation," Tim raises an eyebrow, quickly tapping on his phone with one hand and writing down dates and times in the other, "Or Gus?"
"I'm obviously Shawn," Danny is almost offended he even has to ask, actually. "Which makes you Sh'Dynasty."
"How do you spell that again? No wait," Tim puts away his phone with a small little smile that makes Danny's insides go all tingly, "I remember, S-H, comma to the top, Dynasty?"
"That's a God's comma, Tim." Danny concurs, flicking a two fingered salute. "Put some respect on it."
There's a beat.
And then Tim smiles like he can't help it and laughs.
It's a very nice laugh. It's so nice, it makes Tim look so much younger, more his age. It makes Tim look real and human and Danny has been clinging to half his humanity since he was fourteen.
Seeing someone light up, look so alive? Looking boyish and sweet in a three piece suit more expensive than his parents entire house and lab, crystalline blue eyes sparkling like diamond rings, it makes this whole charade feel tooâŠ
Too fake, too far, tooâwistful. Because Danny? Danny might be more fucked than he thought he was.
When the laughter dies down, Danny quietly freaking out with the kind of acting that should be on Broadway, Tim gets back into business.
The CEO slides the paper towards Danny, spinning it on the coffee table so that it faces him, and leans back to sip at his coffee again.
Danny, with thoughts racing around trying to grab attention, reads through it with an iron grip on his focus.
The contract itself is very simple in terms, and lays out all the basics in Tim's surprisingly messy handwriting.
The first chunk is a basic outline of their cover story, with a small section listing a couple of incidents and dates where Danny and Tim could have met and started their so-called relationship. Each part has a little tick box for Danny to check and, presumably, choose which is best.
In the second chunk, boundaries are bullet pointed with room to add more and a small rectangular box has been outlined to highlight a future safeword or phrase that has yet to be filled in. Closer inspection shows Tim has listed a few body parts that are definite No's in public, and what looks like a space for Danny to fill in himself.
The third chunk is really just a paragraph outlining that their relationship is subject to change at any given day depending on the circumstances. Anything can be discussed freely and without judgement, and can be subject to longer conversations to be had in the future in the guise of "whispered nothings" and can be had during, as the contract states, meetings heretofore referred to as "dates."
And finally, at the bottom of the pages is a list of calendar days that Danny can choose from for the next two months for said dates. It'sâŠa lot of days. Tim's even drawn a rudimentary calendar for months, though it's a little squished. It looks like he even marked the time of day those free days are availableâM, A, and E standing for Morning, Afternoon and Evening according to the little key Tim's drawn at the bottom.
As he reads, Danny fills each part out, ticking and marking and listing his own no-no's in the right places. He leaves the safeword box blank, and pulls out his own phone to compare and add the dates into his own schedule and calendar.
The entire time, Danny's thoughts spin like a tornado around him as he sits in the eye and goes through the contract. Part way through, Tim slides over a typed paper that seems to be a simple NDA.
Danny didn't even know NDAs could be so simple. He doesn't even really want to think about why Tim goes around with a prepared one in the first place.
When all is said and done, his calendar is full, and the contract is 99% filled out.
They can figure out the safeword later, but at the very bottomâŠ
Danny stares at the unevenly drawn dotted line where he's supposed to sign his name and for the first time since he blurted out his offer, hesitates.
Because what the hell is he thinking?
But he knows the answer to that already: he isn't. He's not thinking at all.
But he's thinking now. The contract in his hands forces him to.
He made a joke, and now he's in a situation that may or may not kind of ruin him.
But, like much of his half-life, it is too lateâDanny is already halfway in with no real way of coming back out without turning into an evil version of himself that destroys not only the Justice League, but the entire world.
Danny may or may not be entirely too dramatic for a crush gone rogue on his boss, but in this moment he feels it matches the vibe.
(Seriously though, cheating on one test destroys the world? Only Danny's life could be so fucked up, really.)
It's just that, with an almost complete contract in his hand, it suddenly feels like a lot, is what Danny is trying to get at.
Because of courseâof course, Danny's brain decides to finally focus on the tornado around him.
He can hear Tim's soft breathing, the occasional sip of coffee he takes that is no doubt just for show because that coffee cannot still be warm at this point.
And the fact that that is cute to Danny? The fact that Danny finds this man's thoroughness in a contract for a fake relationship utterly endearing? Means that Danny just has to face the truth.
Danny has a capital C, possibly all CAPS, CRUSH on Timothy Drake-Wayne.
It's kind of fucking dire.
Like he finally understands what the hell Tucker was going on aboutâhe barely knew Tim beyond magazine covers one week ago. Eavesdropped on two conversationsâonly had one and half with the man himself.
And yes, Timothy Drake-Wayne is obviously hot, but one laugh and Danny's fucking gone?
That's insane. Like, Vlad's obsession with Danny's mom kind of insane.
Actually, Danny is dismayed to realize, it's even worse because Vlad knew his mom for at least a semester, probably even longer before he became obsessed. And, he begrudgingly adds to himself, being a Halfa ups the insanity to ghost standards really fucking easily so it's not even surprising that he did.
Danny is in his thirtiesâhe's been a Halfa for more than half his life. He has got get a fucking grip.
He will not make Vlad's fucking mistakes even if it will kill him. He can still come back from this if he leaves now.
"We can still come back from this, you know." Tim offhandedly offers, as if he can read Danny's fucking mind. "We can forget this whole thing, maybe even stage a break up now if it gets too crazy. Because it will get crazy, with my family."
Danny stares at Tim over the contract, hand still poised to sign.
"I wouldn't blame you." Tim continues, looking for all the world calm and collected as he meets Danny's gaze sincerely. "I've said crazier shit, offered crazier things that I didn't really mean, or regretted a second later. I get it."
And the worst part of it is that this is way more reasonable. Staging a break up now, instead of after attending to a wedding and pretending to be dating for at least 2 and a half months, makes way more sense.
When was the last time you had fun?
"Thanks." Danny smiles softly, ignoring the erratic beating of his heart and the voice in the back of his head that insists this isn't what Jazz meant. "But I'm actually looking forward to it, you know? Remember, I've always wanted to be part of a Hallmark movie."
Tim laughs, soft this time. It's no less devastating than the other laugh that tilted Danny's world on its axis, but it at least softens to blow.
Danny's certainly done stupider shit in his life, and hey, maybe if this really is a Hallmark movie it'll all work out.
Danny inwardly scoffs. The likelihood of Tim falling for Danny is zero to none butâŠbad idea or not, he knows he'll at least have fun with it.
this chapter has chats and coding involved, which is best viewed here on AO3! I have, however, taken screen shots below to do a janky version on tumblr below the cut
This and the next chapter has somehow become a giant 10 artist collab, featuring a number of my friends from @haunting-heroes-creative-games (HHD Server)! credits will be given below the cut as well, so as not to spoil!
Danny's day as a newly minted fake boyfriend starts simple: with an explosion and a frosty gust of wind during his daily commute to work.
Screams start to fill the air as people run past him to get away fromâŠsomething. Judging by the familiar crackle of ice, that something is actually a someone Danny is very familiar with.
"Hey Victor!" Danny yells above the din, hand cupping his mouth to try and be heard, "Whatcha got there, bud?"
Victor (or more accurately Mr. Freeze at the moment) well, freezes at the sound of Danny's voice. "Danny? My boy, what are you doing here?"
Danny lifts up his to go cup and jabs a thumb to his right, where his favorite coffee shop is. "Getting coffee before work."
"Ah, yes." Victor nods sagely, "the ambrosia of life. I trust you are not drinking too much of it as to be detrimental to your health?"
Danny puts up three fingers in a mock scout's salute. "Promise, I'm taking care of my health."
Victor seems to accept that, holstering what looks like a signature freeze gun. The streets are partially frozen solid, there are even a few men here or there frozen to the asphalt struggling to get free.
Danny sighs. "So what's all this about?"
The rogue shifts uncomfortably. "Nothing, nothing my dear boy. Nothing for you to worry about."
"VictorâŠ" Danny starts, before he realizes he's not sure how to finish his sentence.
He'd thought they'd been over thisâDanny's no Jazz, but he thought Victor was doing better. Ever since Nora had disappeared, there should have been no reason for Victor to go wild like this.
The man mainly went rogue to try and cure his wife, after all. Even if said wife went rogue herself upon waking and immediately absconded. Sure, that really freaking sucks, but theoretically Victor should be focusing on recovery and getting his own body back into equilibrium, rather than more rogue attacks.
Though, Danny supposes, this might be a heartbreak rogue attack. Nora is a touchy subject in Gotham, still fresh. Mr. Freeze seems to be doing his thing, so maybe Danny should take this at face value. It's not his business, and he's never met the woman either. Victor doesn't talk about her, so Danny won't.
The trouble with this revelation is that now it's even more important Danny figure out how to finish his sentence.
"Victor," Danny tries again, "Are you alright?"
Victor seems to slump at that, but doesn't answer. That in and of itself is an answer, of course, but it doesn't make Danny feel any good about the silence that descends upon them.
Thankfully, a hero in many different meanings jumps to their rescue.
"Mr. Freeze!" A husky voice calls out, Gotham's one and only day time vigilante rolling onto the scene on that sleek motorbike of his. He drifts to a stop, confused, when he sees Danny and Victor just standing there, doing nothing. "Uh. I was going to say cease and desist, but I see that you'veâŠkind of already done that?"
"Yes, yes." Victor flaps a hand, tiredly. "I was just. Acting out, I suppose. Old habits die hard, don't they my boy?"
"That's true." Danny agrees amiably, relaxing. "Maybe next time try drinking your sorrows away?"
"Alcoholism is an ever rising epidemic on our world." Victor sniffs, before slumping again. "But I suppose you're right. Will you be taking me away, Signal?"
"UhâŠno?" Signal scratches his neck, "If you uh, promise to head home, I guess? I'm not the cops."
"How about we grab dinner after I'm done with work, Victor?" Danny soothingly offers, "I can text you?"
"Of course, of course." Victor smiles, walking over to pat Danny on the head. This makes a hilarious tableau, considering Danny is a good couple inches taller. "Let me know, there is a nice Italian place nearbyâŠ"
Victor makes his swift retreat then, and now a different kind of silence descends upon the streets as Danny makes his way over to the trapped men and starts to thaw them out using his ice powers.
"You're a meta?" Signal asks, as he follows Danny during the process. "Ice powers?"
"Minor." Danny shrugs, he and his sister long having this cover story in their pocket. "I can cool down coffee, or thaw out small chunks of ice. Like this."
Danny thaws out the last person, before dusting himself off. "I'm sorry about Victor. He's beenâŠ"
"Heartbroken." Signal finishes when Danny trails off. "Yeah, we know. I'm uh, glad he has you though?"
"I jammed his ice gun a year back." Danny laughs weakly. "And long story short, my sister's a therapist and I'm kind of nosey and yappy. We exchanged Discords."
Signal whistles. "Not sure how we didn't hear about it before, but as long as it keeps him off the streets it's not any of our business."
"A nice, refreshing take." Danny smiles, "Cops back home would have arrested him anyway."
"I'm a vigilante, not a hero." Signal shrugs, as sirens start to sound, "And that's my cue. See ya, dude!"
"Bye!" Danny waves, as Signal disappears in a cloud of exhaust smoke. He sighs for a moment, before turning to head to work.
And then, of course, he slips on some melted ice and spills his coffee.
No coffee, and he's late for work. Great.
Danny's squinting at his laptop, bored out of his damn mind and feeling like he's going insane because that was definitely a three in this box earlier, when the soft tak of a paper cup is set beside him.
Warmth hovers behind his back, an arm reaching over his shoulder as it leans on the table beside the cup that was just placedâanother to-go cup from his favorite coffee shop with what smells like hot chocolate steaming from inside it. Following the arm has Danny leaning back, tilting his head up to meet a truly lovely and handsome face.
Aware that it is suddenly very quiet around the lab, with eyes all around staring holes into his and Tim's backs, Danny quietly smiles. "Good morning,"
That lovely red blush starts to creep from beneath Tim's collar as he clearly makes the effort to keep eye contact with Danny. They didn't really talk about PDA beyond Tim's family, but if Tim wants to carry the ruse to the rest of WE he wouldn't mind.
"Morning," Tim shyly mumbles, pausing for a moment before determinedly tacking on a soft, "Babe."
This is Tim, clearly, making a statement. And when Tim tilts a little, practically begging for a morning greeting well, who is Danny to deny him? It's in the contract after all. He leans up, and places a soft kiss on Tim's cheek.
Danny tries to calm his heart from beating out his chest as he focuses on other things, tapping at the hot chocolate. "Is this for me?"
"Since you had a bit of a busy morningâŠ" Tim nods, pulling away and turning to lean against Danny's desk on his left hand side. "I was worried."
Tim's warmth shifting away leaves Danny a bit bereft, which distracts him for a moment from Tim's words. When he finally registers them, Danny has to take a deep breath.
Danny's gotta hand it to Tim, he's a very good actor. Danny is beside himself because shit, this is very thoughtful of Tim, and Tim would make a really nice boyfriend. A real one, that is, and Danny wants to be a good boyfriend back, even if it's fake.
Think, Danny. What would a real boyfriend do?
He reaches up slowly, taking Tim's hands into his own and leaning closer as he looks up at Tim with what he hopes is reassuring eyes. "I'm fine, safe and sound. See?"
Tim twitches, inhaling slowly before letting it go. The other man's hands slide up his arms, one hand gripping his forearm and the other traveling lightly to Danny's chest. His entire countenance slumps in relief, and even though Danny knows this is all fake, it feels real.
Tim leans in, as if to reassure himself, and Danny is lost to the feeling of it. Lost to warmth getting back into his orbit again, to the scent of the manâsandalwood and leather and other things Danny can't name.
And then Tim's breath ghosts over his ear, and reality begins crashing down again. "Your pulse is irregular, is this something I should know about?"
Danny blinks, frozen for a moment before a gasp from somewhere behind Tim reminds Danny that they aren't alone. He leans in, voice low for just them, "I have a heart condition, nothing seriousâjust arrhythmia from an incident when I was younger."
Tim nods, imperceptibly, before jolting and sitting up quickly when a small clatter informs them that the room at large is definitely watching.
Tim clears his throat, as if embarrassed, before pouting adorably. "You never told me you knew Mr. Freeze."
Danny blinks, a little off kilter by the cutest CEO to ever grace his workspace. "I, uh. Well you know how I have those minor ice powers?"
Tim gives him a look, squeezing his arm in a way that not only reminds Danny that Tim is still holding onto him, but also that Tim did not in fact, know this about Danny. Oops.
But Tim hums as if he does know, and so Danny powers on, sweaty and terribly apologetic and trying not to show it. "So uh, Iâhm."
"You�" Tim encourages, letting Danny go to cross his arms and wait him out. Which is not what Danny wanted at all, but he will consider it punishment.
Danny winces, shoulders coming up to his ears. "I jammed his gun once, and the rest is history?"
There's a long pause before Tim chuckles, granting Danny a soft smile he wishes were real. "Right. Of course, because that totally makes sense."
Danny sheepishly smiles up at him. "Well, I meanâit's not like you're any stranger to rogue attacks right?"
Tim huffs, shaking his head. "Fine, fine. Just because you're rightâ"
"A rare occurrence with a genius boyfriend, I knowâ" Danny can't help but laugh, Tim blinking before blushing again.
"You're one to talk." Tim grumbles, once again pouting in the most adorable fashion. A phone rings, Tim suddenly switching back to 'work mode.'
A short conversation later, and Tim has to apologetically whisper at Danny as he covers the receiver to his phone. "Gotta go, text me?"
"As soon as I'm heading home." Danny agrees, and even if Tim is just saying that for appearances he definitely will.
Tim had assured Danny that he didn't actually need to text Tim on a daily basis, he could just report whatever he thought was necessary for Tim to know, but Danny is determined to come out of this with some conversation with the man. The conversations they've already had at least prove it to be a promising endeavor.
If Danny's gonna end up alone at the end of this anyway, he might as well milk the companionship as much as he can.
(And if he distantly dreams that maybe Danny could be charming enough to actually romance Tim, then that's between him and Nocturne.)
Tim bites his lips, smiling a little bit before glancing around. He leans down once more, moving so the phone is not in the way, and Danny knows this now, he's learned.
He leans up and gives Tim another kiss on the cheek, soft as he can manage it, with Tim leaving one on Danny's cheek in exchange.
He might be imagining it, but he thinks maybe Tim shivers a bit at the touch. But before he can really process it, Tim is already out the door with a sad little smile and a wave as he continues to speak lowly into his phone.
There's a moment where Danny stares at the now empty doorway, forlorn, with a tingley cheek and an erratically beating heart.
Then one of his coworkers, Anania, slams a hand on his desk.
"What the hell was that, Nightingale?"
And just like that, the floodgates have opened and the rest of his coworkers descend like a pack of hyenas. Danny grimaces, and resolves himself to a very torturous work day full of questions and powerpoint headaches.
He just needs to survive the rest of the day, and then he can go drink with Victorâhe's at least got that going for him.
(And if his lips and cheek tingle throughout the day, that's another secret between him and Nocturne.)
Danny has a hangover.
It is actively bullshit that he can heal from literally any injury barring the involvement of blood blossoms and ectoranium when he's Phantom, but six shots of tequila and maybe half a bottle of rum and he feels like Death Thrice Over.
He should never have gone so hard, he was only supposed to be there for Victor, not get drunk with Victor. And Pamela, and Harley, and there was a moment where Penguin came down specifically to laugh at themâ
Danny's head pounds, and he groans into his hands.
When he texted Tim about it last night, the other man made some sympathetic overtures but a part of Danny suspects that Tim was definitely laughing at his situation.
Danny's not sure if it's better that he didn't laugh at him for eight minutes straight like Sam and Tuck did, or if it's worse because that means they aren't that close yet.
Either way the mortification upon waking was terrible and devastating.
Then again, Tim worrying about Danny's hangover during their good morning text exchange was really nice.
Tim is really nice. The good morning text in and of itself was a pleasant surprise, and is the only reason Danny is even existing right now, actually.
Danny has chosen one of the smaller conference rooms as his base of operations today. He's fruitlessly trying to get this powerpoint in order again, but someone's changed a bunch of the numbers and it's not adding up anymore.
He heavily suspects it's Maisie, but Danny can't prove it yet. She keeps insisting the equations are wrong, even though they are correct, and he thinks that maybe she's been substituting her equations in and fucking everything up. But the hangover is making the numbers all wibbly wobbly right now so he might just give up and head to the lab to tinker with some other projects instead.
Retribution on Maisie will just have to wait another day, when hell isn't banging around inside his head.
"As expected," An unfamiliar voice tsks from beside Danny, "Timothy has poor taste in paramours."
Danny jolts, blearily looking up at a childâno, a teenager sniffing his nose up at him. He didn't even hear the door open, nor any footsteps.
The teenager is familiar, but it takes him a moment to realize whyâDamian Wayne is one of the more public Wayne children but either due to his age or impeccable upbringing doesn't make the headlines all the much. Not right now, anyway.
When he had first been brought onto the social scene, the tabloids had a field day about himâabout his mother's origins and the supposed combative behavior the boy had in response to the other socialites and reporters on the scene.
If you ask Danny, little Damian should have been more violent. With what they were saying about him, about his mom before they even met him? Yeah, Danny would have stabbed a guy or three too.
"I would say I'm offended," Danny wipes a hand down his face, "but I am also not sure why your brother chose meâbelieve me, I count my blessings all the time."
Damian seems a little thrown off by that, probably expecting some kind of push back.
He'll be disappointed in more ways than one, if that's the case.
"I have heard you are afraid of commitment." Damian tries again, and jeez, this kid is as blunt as they say.
"I am." Danny agrees, smiling a little ruefully up at the kid. "But even I'm not dumb enough to squander a chance I've been given."
"At the risk of sounding like an absolute asshole," Danny sighs, leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling. "Your brother is like, adorable to an illegal extent. Plus he's funny and smart? Come onâI had no chance."
"âŠI fail to see why this makes you anâŠ" Damian pauses, and when Danny glances at the boy it looks like he's unhappy he's about to say something distasteful, "absolute asshole."
"Well, if I were in your position," Danny smirks, "I wouldn't want to hear how attractive my sibling is."
Damian takes a moment to think about that, seeming to consider Danny's words and the situation. From Danny's position, the boy might be trying to give Danny a shovel talk.
Jokes on him, Danny's grave is a metal portal that's been permanently shut down. No shovels involved.
"My parents are exceedingly attractive." Damian finally says, looking perplexed. "My siblings as well. It is of no consequence to state a fact that I am very familiar with."
"âŠMaybe it's different," Danny smiles, "you're a teen heart-throb yourself, aren't you?"
Damian blushes, hard to see due to the teen's dark skin but definitely there in the tips of his ears. Adorable must run in this family, seriously. "If you are implying you are not attractive, I am sure my brother will beg to differ."
"Sure," Danny shrugs, reaching up to ruffle Damian's spikey hair. Miracle upon miracles, the boy does not stab him for it. "But I'm hardly front page cover status. Don't worry little man, I know where I stand."
Danny laughs a bit, self deprecatingly. He knows he's not ugly, but seriously, Danny isn't all that.
But Damian must not like that joke, because he scrunches up his face in clear reluctance. "Perhaps, but you are worthy of being Timothy's wallpaper."
Danny's brain screeches to a stop. "âŠCome again?"
"His wallpaper." Damian says slowly, as if Danny is dumb. Which is fair, because he feels dumb right now. "There is a picture of you on his cellphone. You are shirtless."
"Iâ" Danny blinks, a little thrown off. Because what. But now is not the time for that, now is the time to keep their cover, "I didn't know he made it his wallpaper."
Thankfully, all those years of hiding his ghost side from his parents have paid off. Because Danny didn't know Tim had a picture to make his wallpaper in the first place, much less a shirtless one, and they would be fucked if Damian found that out.
Did Danny send him drunk shirtless selfies? He doesn't remember doing so, but he wouldn't put it past himself. He's never been the type to forget what he does when he's drunk though, and he's never gotten blackout drunk before.
Whether due to his original constitution or his powers making it so, Danny's actually pretty strong when it comes to alcohol. The aftermath is brutal, of course, but it's not like fast healing will solve a hangover. Danny's got a fast metabolism and supernatural musclesâthat doesn't exactly extend to his body creating water in order to combat dehydration.
He knows, he's asked Frostbite about it before.
"Well now you are aware," Damian crosses his arms again, smirking like he's finally found solid ground. "He has many photos of you. It is embarrassing how much, actually."
He's probably decided if he can't give Danny a shovel talk, he can at least embarrass his brother. Which is fairâas a little brother himself he understands completely.
Still, it doesn't make Danny's panic go away. He definitely did not send Tim drunk selfies, right? No, but he would have seen the history when he texted with Tim this morning, surely? Then again, Danny's never been good in the mornings, and he wouldn't put it past Drunk Danny not to delete it.
Much as Danny is aware of his drunken escapades, that doesn't mean he and Drunk Danny are friends. That guy is a complete and total dumbassâDanny's never been good with his impulses and Drunk Danny is even worse.
Seriously, 'babe would you consider turnign off autocorecct fr me'???? Danny is livid with his past drunken self.
Danny's hand twitches, wanting to check his phone immediately. If he did send Tim an abundance of drunk selfies, he hopes they were good ones. One of them must be, if Tim deemed it good enough to make it his wallpaper. Danny tries to remember when the last time he went to the gym was.
Wait, that's irrelevantâDanny has supernatural muscles. But Danny's not exactly skinny like he was in high school. He's firmly taken after Jack, and though he isn't as buff as Dan is he's prettyâŠup there. What if Tim doesn't like that? Supernatural muscles aside, it's not like he has a six pack or anythingâhe's just a little on the stockier side, what did Ellie call it? A dad bod?
Shit, Ellie is his cloneâis he technically a dad? But they decided on siblings andâ
Thankfully before he can spiral any further, a loud banging sound smacks him straight back to Earth, where Damian Wayne is looking at him way too closely for his comfort and his headache is getting kind of worse about it.
When he looks over, Tim is there at the door huffing and puffing and looking irritated beyond belief.
"Dami!" Tim looks a little distraught, like that time when Hurricane Steph plunged them into this facade in the first place. Distantly, Danny thinks that maybe he has this expression exclusively for his family. "I told you not to bother him at work."
"Tt." Damian clicks his tongue, looking less than impressed. "Did you, or did you not bother him at work just yesterday?"
"Yeah, but I am his boyfriend." Tim scrunches his nose at Damian in the cutest way possible as he makes his way to them. "And you are just a random teenager."
And then Tim turns to Danny, smiling the smile of angels and Danny's brain kind of goes mush. "Hi, Danny."
He reaches up to hook his arms over Danny's shoulders, and Danny is helpless but to stand up and bend down to return the hug. "Hi, Tim."
"Don't freak out." Tim whispers into his ear, and this is good, this is easy for Danny.
It's hard to freak out when you have an armful of hot fake boyfriend and you're actually expected to make it look good. So he does as he's bid and doesn't freak out and squeezes Tim like he's missed him and hasn't seen him in ages even though they just saw each other yesterday.
This is also easy, because Danny is easy and he did actually miss Tim.
He wraps his arms around Tim's waist, burying his face into the crook of his fake boyfriend's neck and breathes in. Tim has a different cologne on, this time of something musky and light, so Danny tries to focus on that instead of his headache. Tim squeezes a little bit in response, the arms around Danny's neck a solid reminder that life surrounds him and grounds him in turn.
Who knew a hug could cure a hangover so effectively? Danny didn'tâhe feels like there should be a powerpoint for this discovery, actually, instead of his own dumb project about water filtration systems.
Like, sure, it mostly solves the whole danger from poison in the watering well issue Gotham constantly has, but hugs from hot men curing hangovers? That's where it's at.
"What am I not freaking out about?" Danny mumbles into Tim's neck, feeling the man in his arms shiver a little. "The pictures, or your family coming to accost me?"
This time, Tim flinches a little. When he pulls back a little he gives Danny a sheepish little smile. "âŠBoth?"
Danny chuckles, but recognizes this is definitely not the time or place. Damian is tapping his foot impatiently and adamantly looking the other way as if they are doing something scandalous.
Tim steps away, but Danny doesn't let him get far. He sits back down so that the two Waynes don't have to look up at him, hooking an arm around Tim's waist and pulling him closer. He had only meant to convey intimacy, but Tim takes it a step further and leans into Danny, draping an arm across Danny's shoulders to balance himself a little.
A little pang runs through Danny, as he realizes it must be his body remembering what he'd done with his exes. Danny's not really a jealous guy, Tim's past is his past, but it does remind Danny very bluntly that this is all fake.
It kind of hurts how natural Tim feels in Danny's arms. But he's determined to make the most of it so he places that aside for later.
"Are you happy now, you little gremlin?" Tim glares as Damian.
Damian takes a moment to examine them, and presumably their comfort and ease with each other. Danny tries not to hold his breathâhe doesn't actually need to breathe even as a human, but it's habit now and would be suspicious if he didn't.
"I suppose he is adequate." Damian sniffs, turning around and leaving without so much as a goodbye. "But I withhold the right to rescind that should he beâŠlacking in any way."
Tim sighs, leaning his head on Danny's for just a moment before straightening up and leaving his orbit entirely.
Danny feels bereft, seriously.
"Sorry about this. I probably should deal with that beforeâ" Tim rakes a hand through his hair, not finishing the thought and blowing out air in exasperation. "I'll text you, explain everything later, okay?"
"Of course, don't worry about it." Danny reassures, because even if he's confused at least this gives Danny an excuse to talk to Tim more. "Text me later."
"Thanks." Tim hurriedly says, pressing a quick kiss to his temple and rushing out after Damian. "Feel better, I left some headache meds by the coffee!"
Danny blinks, feeling warm where Tim's lips just were. When he glances down, there is indeed two little pills right next to the cup of coffee Damian brought him.
He stares at them for a moment before giving up and resigning himself to the tender mercies of his hangover.
He takes the pills and prays for strengthâhe has a feeling this won't be the last of the Wayne's he'll see.
FEATURED ART:
Danny's pfp: @phantomfen
Tim's pfp and Coffee on Street: @belfry-ghost
Shirtless Danny: @clockwaysarts
Another chapter with chats and coding involved, best viewed on AO3 (linked above!), so it will once again be under the cut!
The updated artist count is now ELEVEN, which is seriously crazy. I love my friends so much and am very thankful for them!!!
I have compiled a full list of the art being used in this and the previous chapter, which you can check out here! It should have blown up vers of the pfps, with artists and any links/full sized pieces listed as well!
Jason knows Tim is plotting something.
Jason knows it to the very core of himâTim is up to something.
Listen. Jason doesn't want to kill the kid anymore, but that doesn't mean he doesn't hold some kind of big ass grain of salt when Tim says something is totally kosher.
When Jason had apologized to Tim for trying to kill him at Titan's Tower, he sincerely meant itâit wasn't fair, after all, considering Bruce was the one who replaced him. It wasn't fair for Jason to put all this homicidal rage at a kid just trying to help, to use the kid as a tool to help Batman see the error of his ways in appointing child soldiers.
So yeah, he manned up. He apologized, and he meant it. Did some soul searching and everything.
That is, until he found out Tim inserted himself into the job. Then that trusty homicidal rage came pouring back in, because what the fuck, man?
Was it better in the long run? Sure, you can't really picture Gotham without a Robin running around after all. Did it set precedent?
Well, let's see. There's Steph, with her home made costume. There's Duke, with the whole street gang war thing.
âŠYeah. It set fucking precedent. And Jason's still fucking mad about it.
Damian, at least, Jason will own up to. Jason had a hand in raising the tyke after all, mad with pit water as he was.
The point is, from that point on it's been an uphill fucking battle with the little blue blood. Don't even get him started on that whole 99 clone and evil future self bullshit Tim got up to.
"Youthful indiscretions" his fucking ass.
The most important thing about this is that he didn't actually believe Tim was hiding a fucking relationship from the family. Not even once.
But Jason called him, just like his other siblings expected him to, and dug. Because even if Jason said something about it, or didn't call, it would end in the same stupid result: Tim not giving him any information on what is actually happening.
Jason actually thinks Tim's been hiding one of those aforementioned indiscretions, as opposed to a whole ass relationship.
He's pretty sure Tim is doing something mad illegal. Like criminal rogue type shit. He's 89% percent sure, even, and that this relationship thing with this Danny guy is a farce.
He thinks that maybe this Danny character might be an accomplice even, if not a whole ass fucking instigator.
But ultimately, it doesn't matter if it is or is not true. Why would Jason throw rocks from his awesome, well defensible and reasonable glass house after all?
He's not looking to start shit really, he just wants to do his brotherly duty and be annoying. Possibly dig up blackmail, maybe figure out how to metaphorically go to Tim's room, fart, and then leave with the door still open.
You know, regular brother shit, just with added crime and possible violence. To either Tim or Danny, he's not really picky.
That is until, three months into the charade, he realizes that Tim's Danny is the same Danny that lives just down the hall from Jason.
Danny Nightingale, who reminded Jason of his brotherâthe brother from before the Bats invaded his life, before he died, before Danny Todd died.
The same neighbor who respects his boundaries, enjoys his baking, and genuinely helps the people around him. The same guy he exchanges food with on occasion, who helps Mrs. Martinez carry her groceries up and feeds the stray cat population that seems to pester the entire block.
Jason's first thought is that he didn't think Danny had it in him.
But then again, Saint Dickolas moonlights as a dangerous vigilante, so it wouldn't be too far fetched for Danny to have a whole other life. Jason hasn't dug into it, really. Not beyond the basics for his own safety.
There is the whole thing with the Nightingales' former parents (does it count as former if they're still alive, justâŠdisowned, or is there another term for that?) being borderline mad scientists, but with the Nightingale siblings firmly taking a stance against them Jason was less inclined to think they've gone down that route.
Still, that doesn't discount the possibility that Danny and Tim are committing crimes together, and aren't actually in a relationship.
Which leads Jason to his second, more important thought:
Danny hypothetically leads a secret life of crime and he's doing it with Tim?
Jason is Red HoodâJason has been trained by Batman, has been trained as an assassin and a fucking mercenary at one point. Jason is a crime lord! He's the Crime Lord, even!
Why the hell isn't Danny committing crimes with Jason?!
Granted, Danny probably doesn't know Jason is knee deep in crimes since that's kind of the point of being trained for this kind of shit but still. It's the principle of the thing.
Jason will be damned if Tim will take another thing from him, especially since Jason is clearly the better fucking choice in crime doing, so obviously the best course of action here is to bust open this fake relationship thing and take Tim's place in being Danny's partner in crime and only crime.
(Maybe a partner in bread and pastries too, he could use some more help with the bakery. Maria and Sybil can handle it, obviously, but more helping hands wouldn't hurt.)
Which is how Jason spends an entire afternoon bugging the guy's place, though he made sure to stay away from the bedroom area on the slim chance it was actually true that he was in a relationship with Tim.
(Jason refuses to think about his brother's sex life and therefore refuses to think about the possibility they take it outside the bedroom. In his mind, Tim and Danny will hold hands under the covers in the bedroom and that is that. Nothing more.)
All told, three weeks of surveillance proves not much of anything beyond things Jason already knew about Danny. It seems like now that the cat is out of the bag the so-called couple spends more time at Tim's penthouse apartment than at Danny's, and whilst it would be interesting to try and bug the penthouse in a way that Tim won't catch him Jason doesn't want his brother on his case about it yet.
Still, he's not giving up so he occasionally checks the logs here and there, hopeful for some kind of proof.
According to Tim's not-so-secret secret calendar, Danny should still be visiting back home to celebrate some kind of family tradition so he's not actually expecting anything to show up in the logs today.
But his bugs pick up a noise so he tunes in, just in case it's Tim suspecting Bat interference.
The rattling of a door can be heard, followed by the thump of bags being thrown onto the ground indelicately. There's a grunt, and a low voice grumbling about messy brothers and something or other that's hard to pick up. He focused his bugs mostly in the living room, so the mystery person must be talking too low for the audio to pick up.
"âŠI know, Spike." A feminine voice sighs, footsteps and voice coming closer, "Believe me, I know. But it's not the first time Danny has hidden something from me, and it surely won't be the last."
There's a rustle, and a textile plop as someone rests themselves on one of the seating options in the living roomâjudging by the clarity of the voice, it's likely to be the sofa.
There's a long pause as the voice presumably listens to the other person on what is obviously a phone call.
"You know my brotherâ" The voice coughs, cutting themselves off before suddenly going a little low like they're hurt, "I just don't understand why he wouldn't tell me about this mysterious boyfriend until now."
More rustling, another plop, and a sigh. "No, you're right. IâŠdefinitely would not tell Danny if I were in a situationship either. That is too much information even for me."
Another pause. Jason realizes, in this moment, that the voice must be Jasmine Nightingale, Danny's older sister. Checking the calendar doesn't clarify why she is in her brother's apartment two days ahead of schedule, but at least Jason is getting some kind of clarityâeven if it's not the kind of clarity he needs.
On one hand, the woman has a point. Jason would never divulge a situationship to his siblings, after all. That is way too mortifying to even fathomâbut on the other hand he knows Steph wouldn't hesitate. And Dickâwell.
Dick's situationships usually did all the spilling, so his brother never actually had to tell the family anything. It's fucked up that Nightwing's business is always on full blast, with the flimsy excuse of him being the most attractive hero on the scene or whatever fucking bullshit they wanna spout to justify their objectification of his brother, but hopefully with his upcoming nuptials that will ease up a bit.
And then, of course, there's the other third hand: That Danny hid the situationship from his sister because they really are in a fake relationship to cover up the crimes they are committing.
Jason is heavily invested in this mythical third hand.
"I just don't know about this Tim guy." Jasmine continues, sneer obvious in her tone. "I know Danny's afraid of commitment but he's weak to his desiresâthere's no way the situationship stayed that way because of Danny. Do you think he strung Danny along until his hand was forced?"
Jason bristles a little bit. Two wolves are battling inside him. One wolf sneersâloathe as he is to say it, if this were real Tim would never string a guy along like that. Not on purpose anyway. The other wolf cackles, because Tim totally doesn't deserve Danny anyway.
Jasmine laughs after a moment. "Well. That's certainly a positive spin to put on it. My how we've grown!"
Another pause, before Jasmine grunts, footsteps getting farther away. "It doesn't matter. I've got three days in Gotham, andâ"
Jasmine cuts herself off, everything suddenly going eerily silent. Jason stiffens. What happened?
"Yes, Spike. I'm still here." Jasmine's tone brings a shiver down Jason's spineâdeadly and very very clear. Close.
"âŠVlad." Jasmine growls, the mic on the bug creaking loudly, as if it is being squeezed with extreme force.
"Spike, I'm going to have to call you back." Jasmine cheerfully bids her friend goodbye, before silence once again befalls the room.
"Vlad, if you're listening to this, that means you have not learned your lesson." Jasmine carefully enunciates each and every syllable. "It means you broke your promise to leave us alone, and that means you will die."
Jason perks up. Whatâ
"I will kill you, over and over and over again." Jasmine says very slowly, "And then I will happily bring you to the tender mercies of my brotherâthe older one. Do you understand?"
Before Jason can really comprehend anything, the audio peaks in a loud crackle and one by one in quick succession all of his bugs are being broken swiftly and methodically.
Jason lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Well, fuck. Fuck. Is this Vlad guy going to die because of Jason?
Jason has a lot of blood on his hands, sure, but nothing likeâshit. Who the hell is Vlad, and how the fuck is Jason supposed to save him?
Wait. Thinking on itâwhy should Jason save him? Context clues tell Jason this Vlad guy is bad newsâthat he's planted bugs to monitor Danny before, maybe even to monitor Jasmine too.
Which. Creep move. What the fuck, this Vlad guy should totally dieâeven if he didn't do it this time, Jason has very little faith in humanity. He has no doubts this Vlad asshole would be a repeat offender.
Fuck Vlad. Jasmine should totally murderize that guy. As a treat.
Jason supports women's rights and wrongs, thanks very much.
Vlad Masters was having a good day, all things considered.
Peaceful, really. Despite Daniel and Jasmine shutting him out of their lives, despite young Ellie's long stints away and short awkward stays in between, despite Maddie and Jack being in shambles with their portal now closed and their work now seized and labeled as bigotry, Vlad is doingâŠOkay.
He's doing fine, really. His Obsession being what is essentially a poor man's version of Envy, morphed from his true Obsession of Family being warped beyond repair due trauma and ego, makes it difficult to fulfill but he manages. He's managing.
He's started dating, and is trying to be a better father to Ellie. She doesn't visit often, and takes his calls very rarely, but she does answer his texts so he calls it a win. He's even tried his hand at writing letters to Dan, though he hasn't gotten a reply yet.
It's not exactly living the dream, but working towards it soothes the ache and the insanity.
Obsessions are weird like that, as Daniel once said. Nebulous, andâŠvague.
With Vlad taking so long to truly figure his out after chasing after the wrong thing for such a staggering amount of time, it just made the waters even muddier, so to speak.
But truly, he has been having a good day. A peaceful day.
âŠSo why does he feel like Death herself comes upon him?
"Do you want to pick my color?" Danny asks Tim quietly, nudging their shoulders together like it's some kind of secret they're sharing and not getting manipedis in a large group of his boyfriend's family members.
Danny's smiling in a way that makes Dick's heart kind of squiggle, because seriously, the two of them are so cute.
"Only if you pick mine." Don't even get him started on Tim's smile back, he can hardly stand it. He hasn't seen Tim this happy in forever.
Danny looks at the wide expansive wall of polishes. "I don't know if you wanna trust my taste."
"You just don't want to pick." Tim accuses, before his eyes widen dramatically as he points at his boyfriend. "You're being lazy."
"I am not being lazy!" Danny argues, pushing his hand so that Tim's fingers loosen and he can slip his in. "I just think you have better taste."
"I will not be falling for your lies." Tim scoffs, changing the grip of their hands and letting them fall between them.
"But you'll fall for me," Danny smirks, leaning in close for a moment. "Right?"
Tim sputters, smacking at a laughing Danny. Tim turns away, pouting a bit as Danny tries to placate Tim. When that fails, he bargains, grabbing swatches and polishes and pleading with Tim. "Alright I'll stop, I'll stopâsee? I'm picking a color, I promise."
Tim rolls his eyes, but he relents and lets Danny be silly, standing still as Danny bids so that he can put colors up to his face.
"It's patently unfair that you look good in everything." Danny says, another swatch in his hand that he twists this way and that. "Why do you look good in everything?"
Tim blushes, a familiar blush that crawls up his neck. "I don't look good in everything."
"Not from where I'm standing." Danny mumbles as his brows furrow in serious thought over colors.
Tim, looking exasperated and flattered and beside himself about it, awkwardly covers his face. "Oh my god. I'm going over there to pick my colors."
"Stop staring," Aunt Kate says from beside him, ruffling his hair like he's a child and not almost forty, "and pick a color, Dickie."
Dick runs a hand through his hair, fixing it so that it's not as much of a mess before smiling towards his aunt. "Can't help it, they're just so cuteâlook at them!"
Dick gestures expansively at where Tim delicately picks a red color that looks quite similar to the red of his vigilante suit. Dick squints, and sure enough Tim picks up a yellow too, to complete the set.
"I know, I know." Aunt Kate smiles, nodding towards where Danny is haphazardly putting up swatches and polishes towards Tim. "I feel the same way when I see you with Kori, you know?"
Dick feels a warmth flow over him at the mention of his fiance. His fiance. His fiance!!!
He'll never get tired of that. It's been a long time coming, with a lot of ups and downs and intergalactic politics, but finally, it's happening.
He gets to be Koriander's husband.
He could scream, really. He won't, but it's a near thing, always. He wishes she were here now, but she declined on account of some thing she has with the Outlaws. Jason was laughing at him about it earlier, texting him pictures of his fiance and mocking him.
Jokes on him, he saved all those pictures. Jaybird shows his care in increasingly convoluted ways, and Dick loves his brother for it.
"Tim, you can't be serious." Babs scoffs, plucking the polish out of Tim's hands. "Really?"
"What?" Tim's shoulders scrunch up, self conscious and embarrassed. He knows what, definitely, but they obviously can't explain it without Danny cluing in. He focuses on the wall of polishes again, decisively picking up another color and focusing intensely on it like the problem might go away if he ignores it enough.
"I think they're great colors." Dick chimes in, coming to stand beside his brother and draping his arm around his shoulders.
Tim starts to relax, thankfully, so Dick takes it a little step further. He shakes his brother as he bends a little to meet his brother's eyes. "Danny'd rock them, right Tim?"
Steph scoffs. "Yeah, but at what cost?"
"What do you mean?" Danny tilts his head, confused. He takes the polish and puts it up to the light. "These colors are nice."
Steph bites her lip. "They're just very loud, is all."
A hilarious blunder of a cover up, considering Steph is wearing bright purple leggings and has chosen this obnoxiously neon orange for her nails.
"Does it matter?" Danny scrunches his face. "I'm not exactly front facing."
"It doesn't." Aunt Kate reassures him, picking out a very nice deep red that matches her lipstick. "Do whatever you want kid."
Danny seems to consider this, before looking at the handful of polishes in his hands. It's an assortment of colorsâone of each, if Dick isn't mistaken, before he slowly begins to put everything away except for a very understated but bright blue.
It's icy, a pale almost pastel, with little shimmers in it that shine in the light that remind Dick of icicles and fresh ice and minuscule snowflakes flickering in bright winter sunshine.
"This one reminds me of you, but if you like another color that's okay too." Danny smiles nervously, handing it over to Tim. "I figure, you wear a lot of blue suits, right? But maybe it's a little too light?"
It would be comical if it weren't so sweetâhow Danny's fingers dwarf the tiny polish bottle and how delicately he holds it out to them like it's some kind of bomb. Tim looks like he's shut down at Danny noticing his suit colors, and subsequently chose a nail polish to match them, so Dick takes the polish for him. "That's very thoughtful of you, Danny."
Dick's voice seems to shake Tim out of his stupor, blushing and clutching the other polish he had found earlier like a lifeline. "Yeah, I like it a lot. It's very thoughtful of you. Thank you, babe."
And then Cass appears out of nowhere, steps silent as always but no less interrupting Tim and his flustered babbling, plucking the emotional support polish from Tim's hands. It's another blue, darker and deeper. It has these bigger flakes to them, not quite glitter but not quite a shimmer either, iridescent in the light.
It's not exactly a color he's seen Tim look for before, always more used to his brother picking reds and oranges in his downtime.
But then Cass takes the polish and puts it up against Danny's face, going so far as to tiptoe even though Danny automatically hunches down for her, and suddenly it makes sense.
It matches Danny's eyes, right down to the flecks of hazel.
Dick, starting to see a pattern, puts the polish Danny chose up against Tim's face.
An almost perfect match to Tim's pale blue eyes.
"I'm gonna gag." Steph says, breaking the moment. "Picking each other's eye colors? Seriously?"
Tim and Danny both blush, and even though it's cute beyond imagination Dick might also throw up. Like wow.
But Dick also has no leg to stand on, considering he picked a color that matches his fiance's hair.
"I think it's cute." Babs smiles, rolling over to a stop beside them. "Maybe switch, so you can have each other's?"
Cass and Dick wordlessly switch polishes, each depositing them back into Danny and Tim's hands as Steph gags more exaggeratedly in the background.
Aunt Kate, amused, pats Steph on the back in "support."
"Does everyone else have their colors?" Dick claps his hands, ready to get the party moving to give his brother a moment with his boyfriend. There is a serious concern about blood flow with how much the two are blushing from the inadvertent cheesiness of the situation.
"Wait!" Danny steps towards Steph, grabbing the red and yellow Tim picked out earlier. "I can put these on my toes."
Aunt Kate snorts. "This one's definitely a keeper, you hardly find any so whipped."
Tim hisses at Aunt Kate as Danny scratches the back of his neck bashfully.
"Are you going to have Danny choose the colors for your toes too?" Babs asks uncertainly. Dick understands, they've been taking a long time to pick their colors after all.
"No, it's okay." Tim shrugs, holding the polish Danny chose close to his chest. "I'll just pick my usualâblack and white."
For some reason, Danny smiles at that, like he's pleased about something. Dick abstractly remembers that he used to date a goth girl, didn't he? Maybe Danny's into that. Tim's been sort of out of his skater boy phase, but Dick remembers he would paint his nails black all the time back thenâespecially when he was sort of in that thing with Kon (or, if Tim is to be believed, not in any kind of thing with Kon because they never had a thing, Dick, how could say thatâ).
Dick smirks at the thought of digging up those photos and showing Danny. "We're all set then."
"I'm not even sure why you're here, Lucius." Bruce sighs, rubbing a finger against the space between his brows.
Here being a nice, unassuming cafe with a lovely variety of food options and frankly phenomenal coffee. They're seated in the innermost booth, next to each other on one bench with Bruce on the outside and facing the door because he's a paranoid old man.
"You know damn well why," Lucius huffs, pointing an accusatory finger at his long time friend. "You have been trying to get into Danny's files at WE. You've been sneaking around, and I won't allow it Bruce. I won't!"
"You and I both know that if I really wanted to, it'd be done already." Bruce rolls his eyes.
"And you and I both know that's horse shit." Lucius scoffs, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Barbara assured me she staved off the worse of it, and you know better than to dig through my things."
"Danny isn't yours," Bruce needles, precise in his pedantry as usual, "and he's not a thing to own, regardless."
"Danny is mine." Lucius shoots back, sharp like a batarang. "He's my engineer and a nice young man that I refuse to leave at your tender mercies."
"I'm just here to meet my son's boyfriend." Bruce's voice is soothing, almost pleading Lucius to be reasonable.
Lucius knows better.
"You're here to scare the living daylights out of him because he's dating your precious boy." Lucius elbows him. "I'm here so you have to play nice."
Bruce scoffs, but doesn't deny it. He knows better too.
There's a long moment of silence, because Bruce is insane and Lucius ambushed him on his way to stake out the cafe they're meeting the boys at an hour ahead of time. He knows Bruce is the world champ of silence and brooding, and usually Lucius is more than fine with that, but today he can't take it anymore.
So he makes the dreaded small talk. "Did you hear about what happened to Masters?"
Bruce takes a moment, humming. "Freak accident, supposedly."
Lucius does not want to be playing these games. He knows Bruce knows more than he lets on about the damn thing, he's Batman for Christ's sake.
"What kind of freak accident breaks both arms and legs, three ribs, and a singular big toe?" Lucius rolls his eyes. "Far as I know your family is the only one that participates in extreme sports."
"That's not true," Bruce drawls, but again Lucius ain't having it. He flaps a hand and scoffs.
"Yeah, yeah Queen is cut from the same cloth and don't even get us started on Lutherâ" Lucius nudges his shoulder against his friend, "seriously though. Should we be worried?"
"About Masters?" Bruce hums, thoughtfully. "Probably. About the world at large? No."
Lucius thinks on that for a moment, before slumping. "You know Masters is Danny's godfather?"
It's another rhetorical question. He knows Bruce knows. He knows Bruce knows Lucius kind of hates Master's work ethic and guts, and is very bitter about Danny's former parents' taste.
But Bruce surprises himâhe shouldn't, considering who his friend is and how much he cares about Lucius himself.
"It's not legally binding." Bruce rumbles, smug. "It may have been able to hold water in court before, but not after he changed his name and went under guardianship of his sister."
"Really?" Lucius perks up before slumping again. "What am I getting excited forâhe's 31, he's too old to need me in his life. I'm just his boss."
"You've been following his work since he was at Chicago U, haven't you?" Bruce thinks aloud, tapping a finger against his chin. "At one of those science fairs. It would make sense if you felt a little attachment."
"One year," Lucius can't help but say, "He made a working foldable motorcycle."
Bruce doesn't say anything in response, but it's his thoughtful, intrigued silence so Lucius continues.
"It folded up into a backpack that weighed 47.2 pounds." Lucius' voice is far off and distracted as he remembers the day he saw that project and met a then 22 year old Daniel Nightingale, freshly minted and free from his parents.
"He was disappointed," Lucius continues, disbelief coloring his tone, "because he couldn't find an engine light enough or small enough that could go the speeds he wanted it to go."
Bruce snorts, but placidly drinks the glass of water that the waitress gave them when they first sat down.
"He's been lonely." Lucius finally breaks. "I'm his boss so I haven't beenâŠbut I could tell he was lonely."
"So you're here to stop me from scaring Danny," Bruce guesses, "And I'm here so you don't scare Tim?"
Lucius slumps. "No, because I like Tim."
"So I'm here to make sure youâŠ" Bruce begins, trailing off, leading Lucius to finish for him.
"That I don't get mad at Tim for this wholeâŠ" Lucius twirls a hand. "What was it they said? Situationship?"
"According to Tim, it was that way on both accounts." Bruce warns, "Danny has a fear of commitment."
"And Tim has a night life and a record for getting engaged for the Greater Good." Lucius sniffs.
"That was Tam's idea." Bruce reminds him, as if Lucius isn't already fully aware his daughter did it for good reasons. The fake engagement they staged to save WE was thankfully handled well enough that it stayed out of the papers and was short enough that nobody outside that damn conference room that day could even really figure out it existed in the first place. Still, Lucius may or may not have the tiniest bit of grudges.
Microscopic even.
"How did they even meet?" Lucius changes the subject, and he'll deny it to his dying day but he's pouting, he's sure. "What do they even like about each other?"
It's a stupid question, he knows the merits of both boys, but Lucius is having Big Complicated Feelings right now.
"How is it you know so much and yet so little about your own employee?" Bruce chuckles, mocking and he swears to God this man is so annoying even after all these years still.
"I don't snoop into the personal lives of the people around me, Bruce." Lucius jabs a finger at his long time friend. And he didn't want to know, he doesn't say. Looking into the love lives of his children the people important to him is a dangerous and finicky path. You never really know what kind of TMI you get, and with the rainbow tinted unhinged lives the Bats live it's hard to get a straight answer, much less a real one.
"Right," Bruce grins, boyish gleeful, "you only follow their scientific exploits since they were in college and offer them a job."
"A foldable motorcycle Bruce." Lucius stresses, as if it will absolve him."And that was in his third year at his undergrad."
"No, you're right, it is very compelling." Bruce pauses, glancing sideways at Lucius. "Do you thinkâ?"
"We've already been working on improving it toâŠ" Lucius coughs, "your standards for the night shift."
"Good, good." Bruce leans back pleased, before straightening up suddenly.
When he follows Bruce's gaze, he spots Tim and Danny entering the cafe holding hands and discussing something. They look nervous, until Danny spots them and looks confused.
Which is fair, Lucius kind of just barged in after all.
Danny points over to them, and when Tim spots them he makes a thoughtful kind of face, but is somehow not actually surprised. Damn Bats.
They make their way over, and Lucius straightens himself up to nudge at Bruce.
"Play nice, Bruce." Lucius mutters under his breath.
"Speak for yourself." Bruce mutters back.
And then boys arrive, and it's showtime.
FEATURED ART:
Sam and Tuck's pfps: @phantomfen
Jazz's pfp: @smooth-jazz-radio
Dan's pfp: @belfry-ghost
Ellie's pfp: @hardcover-ship-ambassador
Dick's pfp: @finemeal
Babs' pfp: @agentnavi
Jason's pfp: @haleswallows
Dami's pfp: @lokiitama
Duke's pfp: @clockwaysarts (@paperpuffin on ao3!)
Steph and Cass' pfps: @miomorpheles
Kate's pfp: @psyscha
It isn't until the looming threat of a Family Brunch, almost 5 months into their charade of fake boyfriendship, that Danny realizes that he hasn't been pretending at all.
He's been conscious of the fake status of their relationship this entire time, don't get him wrong. And he's aware that he's been thoroughly just. Having fun with it.
But there's a fine line between being cheesy just to enjoy being close to his crush and being sincere in these acts of intimacy just to get what he can getâand looking back on it, that line was crossed so long ago he needs binoculars just to see the outline of it.
Danny has standing date nights with Tim. They have regular sleepovers (platonic, of courseâwith Danny in the guest room) where Danny uses Tim's shampoo and body wash, where Tim buys him clothes to keep in the penthouse because it's "what he would have done if it were real, Danny."
That's not even the end of it, not even the worst of it.
Babs helped Danny finish his presentation, 3 months ago, and Dick helped with the fucking presentation.
(Because yes, Danny was voluntold to help with presenting the damn thing three separate times to three different departments. And yes. It took that damn long to finish a powerpoint. Danny hates group projects with the passion of 3 Red Suns.)
He watches movies with Duke once a month, Damian comes to bother Danny at work during his intern hours, and somewhere along the way he finds out that Neighbor John is actually Jason Peters Todd (yes, the one that died all those many years ago but didn't actually). Apparently he has a huge crush on Jazz, which is something Danny doesn't want to think about. When did he even meet Jazz? How??
Lucius is inviting him to dinner and forcing Danny not to do overtime because apparently he's always wanted to do so but didn't want to abuse his position of power to encroach upon Danny's free will and this whole Tim thing has made it abundantly clear that if he didn't then the Waynes would "steal him away." Which Lucius has made very clear that that is inherently unfair, when Lucius found Danny first. Go fucking figure.
He, Cass, and Kate (or Aunt Kate, as she insists) go to the gym together all the god damn time, and don't even get him started on Bruce.
He doesn't know what Bruce wants from himâfor Danny to cry? Is that it? Does he want Danny to cry and be very sorry for taking his boy from him?
It's fake, so Tim's not exactly been defiled by him like Bruce clearly thinks he is, but Danny's also not exactly a Saint or anything so even if he could say something he has eyes. He wouldn't be able to, in good conscience, tell Bruce that Tim is safe from his lurid thoughts.
He's obviously safe because Danny won't do anything without Tim's consent but they've shared a couple of very chaste kisses and Danny's brain is constantly in the gutter about it.
He'd almost be ashamed if he didn't know with full certainty that anyone in his position would have broken by now. Because Tim is so, so hot, and sexy, and cute, and funny, and has actually been kind of opening up to him like a slow blooming flower and he might go certifiably insane about it. Arkham probably already has a cell with his name on it, it's kind that crazy.
All this to say, Danny's life has gotten much busier and less busier at the same time. His work-life balance is being forcibly held hostage by an array of Waynes with his calendar being full but not too full as his friend group grows exponentially but not overwhelmingly.
Because they are his friends, the Waynes. They're chaotic and nosy and loud and most of all, most importantly, they're good. They don't push but they push just enough to force Danny to the way he was beforeâthe way he was with Sam and Tucker and his ghost menagerie.
Jazz is less worried, and Danny is less lonely, but reallyâat what cost?
Because Danny has it all, and it's hitting him full force like the GAV being driven by his dad that he has it all and all of it is fake.
He's lying to all of the Waynes, to his own sister, and Tim said his family would be crazy but he didn't say his family would inexplicably weave themselves into the fabric that makes Danny's life.
He didn't say their kind of crazy would remind him of homeâa home that isn't his home anymore, a home that is less a home than Chicago ever was, or Gotham is now. A home he can never really go back to unless he wants to face what he and Jazz left behind. Which is terrible, because how would Tim know any of that?
It feels like every facet of Danny's life meshes with Tim's so perfectly and makes Danny think stupid things, things like Tim belonging with him and being in his life.
And the fact is, Danny isn't actually sure if Tim will keep him after this whole charade. Even as just a friend, he's not sure if Tim would want a walking, half-living reminder of the time he lied to his entire family.
Actually, being hit by the GAV might hurt lessâhe's healed from that kind of damage before.
"DannyâŠ" Sam scooches in close to where he's sitting on his sofa, head in his heads.
"You can say it." Danny mumbles, not acknowledging the hand rubbing up and down his back. This used to soothe him, it should soothe him now, but all it does is make him remember the temperature of Tim's hands and therefore reminds him how pathetic he kind of is.
"Say what?" Tucker asks, coming back from the kitchen with their second round of coffees and tea. He places them on the coffee table before them, before sitting on the other side of Danny close enough that he can siphon the heat off of his childhood friends.
"I told you so." Danny groans, leaning back and shrugging off Sam's hand. "You can say I told you so."
"So you are in deep." Sam says quietly. "You're being real about it."
There's a long silence that all three of them aren't sure how to break.
"I've always been real about it." Danny sighs, looking up at the ceiling. "It's just. Before it was kind of a pipe dream you know?"
Danny gets up, phasing through the sofa to pace behind it as his friends turn and lean over the back of the couch to watch him.
"I admit it, right, I had a huge crush on the guy before this whole endeavor." Danny gestures with his hands, mindlessly. "But I figure, have a little fun, he won't treat me bad and his family probably are nice."
"And he hasn't," Tucker hesitantly confirms, "And they are."
"He's been treating me sweetly." Danny slides his hands through his hair, stopping and gripping at the strands. "And his family are fun. Like Ember and Johnny and Kitty and, and Val and Wes kind of fun."
"Oh." Sam says, lowly, but Danny isn't hearing it.
"He'sâhe's so sweet to me, and I know it's an act, I can handle it, fine, whateverâ" Danny flaps a hand as if to banish the memories. "But his family has so thoroughly integrated themselves into my life and every week, every day they force me to step away from work and life and have fun and problem solve and fit in and it's likeâ"
"It's like when you were Phantom," Sam completes his scattered thoughts. "When you hadâŠ"
"When you had balance." Tucker picks up the thread. "When you were fulfilling your Obsession."
"âŠDid you ever figure out a word for that?" Sam cuts in, when Danny's silence confirms their line of thought.
"No." Danny huffs, giving up and phasing back through the couch to fall into the cushions again. "Ghost Writer suggested community and a bunch of other synonyms, but none of them really fit. Not like Ellie's Freedom and Vlad's Family does."
"Boiling down a complex thing into a single word is kind of impossible dude." Tucker shrugs.
"Tell that to the Observants." Danny scoffs. "Just when I thought I was going to be free from the horrors of Monarchy, they come pester me about Halfa Records and the necessity of leaving traces of history for future generations."
"How many Halfas were there before, anyway?" Tuck leans into Danny, the weight of him is comforting, especially so when Sam adds herself into it.
"Sixty seven, before Vlad." Danny rolls his eyes. "And all of them left a one word Obsession, so now I have to too."
"Sucks." Sam grumbles with Danny. "And Ghost Writer won't let you sneakily put in a footnote or something?"
"No, he's not cool like that." Danny sighs, relishing this quiet moment with his best friends in the entire world. "Mostly likely it's gonna be Community and I'll just have to suck it up."
It's not like it will kill him again, this vague mislabeling of his Obsession, but it rankles at him something fierce is all.
"Would it help if I said I was super impressed how you managed to freak without spilling the beans to Jazz earlier?" Tucker hopefully asks, which Danny snorts to.
Jazz had left half an hour ago to get back home, once Danny had confirmed he was alright. Sam and Tucker stayed behind because they knew Danny still had things to say that he couldn't have said in front of her.
"Well, that was easy, because I am freaking out about meeting Bruce in aâŠcasual capacity."
"But you're also freaking out about this." Sam blows out a forceful breath.
"But I'm also freaking out about this." Danny confirms.
"Well." Tucker makes a face. "Shit."
"It's fine." Danny forces a smile, nudging his friends off and leaning forward to sip at his coffee. It's lukewarm now, but it's fine. It's fine. "I'll justâŠenjoy it while it lasts, just like with Tim."
Neither of his friends say the obviousâthat Danny is clearly ignoring the crux of the problem. That they know Sunday Brunch with the Waynes is a big step, that they know he's accepted them into their circle however one-sided that may be with the added complication of a fake relationship, that more than the heartbreak with TimâŠ
The fundamental tilt of Danny's Obsession could ruin him the way it ruined Vlad.
Because Danny's Obsession isn't just belonging in a community, it's contributingâit's being needed and being wanted and wanting and needing back.
It's fulfilling a role for a larger purpose, the way Phantom did for Amity Park and the ghosts and even for his parents at one point.
"Maybe you can still be friends after?" Tucker tries to offer, but even he knows that's a fool's hope.
"Even if you can't," Sam glares at Tucker, before putting on a comforting smile towards Danny, "You'll have us. No matter what happensâyou'll have us."
Danny takes in the scent of his shitty instant coffee. Tucker always puts cinnamon on top, and it's a comforting aroma to his senses. The scent of the tea he keeps in his apartment specifically for Sam blends in really nicely, and there's still lingering traces of Jazz's perfume in the air, mixing and mixing and mixing in his brain.
"Yeah," Danny breathes out, because this more than anything is a fact of lifeâa truth that Danny can cling to: No matter what, he won't be alone. "Yeah, and that means the world to me."
His friends lean back in, and Danny tries not to melt away in the warmth of their love.
===
"Tim, go to bed." Danny drawls, plucking the tablet away from the other man and flopping next to him on the couch.
His fake boyfriend hasn't slept in a couple days, Danny is sure. Even without the vague comments over the table the Waynes threw out, Danny can see it in Tim's mannerisms.
It might be the stress of having his fake boyfriend over for a Family Sunday Brunch on top of the lack of sleepâbecause that's something Danny has learned about Tim over these past few months: the man does not sleep.
On top of that he's busy. With WE, with his family, with his other friends and now with Danny in the mix?
Danny isn't sure how Tim would survive if this relationship were real. At least now Tim can multitask during their "at home dates" and relax or work or whatever Tim needs that day.
Not that Danny minds those things, seeing as he also takes those times to do his own work and hobbies. He even has a little toolbox kit at the Penthouse now, a little miniature version of his workshop in his apartment.
"Just one minute." Tim grabs the tablet back, immediately tapping away again.
They're in one of the expansive living rooms at the Wayne Manor, which was exactly as ominous and large as he expected it to be. Thankfully, due to his proximity to Sam and the scant times with Vlad he didn't balk at it like a total loser.
Sunday Brunch was successful, and led to a very high stress game of tag that spanned the entire second floor of the Manor. He did not know that Dick Grayson could be so bendy.
Also, Duke is a lot more cutthroat than he expected him to be. (Damian on the other hand was exactly as cutthroat as he expected him to be).
It was also a veryâŠinteresting experience hanging out with Neighbor John as Jason Todd. Jason is more brusque with his family, but no less obsessed with his bakery side hustle. He's not surprised that Jason would adopt a pseudonym, if he were in his position he would also do that to avoid the press. Still, it was fun getting to know his neighbor beyond baked goods and the occasional recipe exchange.
Though for some reason he kept trying to ask Danny aboutâŠhe's still not sure. Cargo? Shipments? He's never spoken to Neighbor John about anything remotely related to the Logistics field, so it ended with a lot of confusion and a determined exchange of pie recipes.
And now it is seven in the evening and most of the Wayne Brood has either left the premises to go back to their own homes or retired to their rooms upstairs.
"Tim," Danny leans forward to try and make eye contact with his fake boyfriend, "How long have you been awake?"
"It doesn't matter." Tim waves Danny off, still focusing on his tablet.
After the game of tag, Tim had mentally checked outâprobably exhausted both physically and mentally at that point, and had sat quietly next to Danny during the entirety of dinner. His family had seemed to accept this as the norm, so Danny took it upon himself to socialize on his behalf, telling stories about the shenanigans he and his best friends were up to in high school and college years. Even apart, they had managed to get up to a significant amount of mischief.
It was also fun to hear about Tim's younger years, which Tim had tried really hard to stop during Brunch. As if through some kind of agreement, the Tim stories of dinner time were all tame and mostly focused on the other members interacting with Tim as a young kid than anything. It resulted in some pretty funny stories, like how bad of a babysitter team Dick and Babs were and what Bruce got up to when he was their age.
Needless to say, there were a lot of dinosaur jokes and mentions of meteor showers.
And so here they are, finally alone after Tim had dipped to work on his tablet and Dick had quietly wished Danny a good luck as he nodded towards where his brother had left. It was as much of a cue as Danny could expect, so he followed through like a good fake boyfriend.
"It kind of matters." Danny argues, going so far as to try and stick his head between Tim and the tablet. "To me, at least."
Tim pushes Danny away with a finger to his head. "Danny. I will sleep after I get this done."
"It's bedtime though," Danny whines, slumping down the couch and hoping his dramatics will get Tim to at least smile. "Good kids sleep at reasonable hours!"
"I am not a child." Tim hisses, which causes Danny to jump.
He sits back up and raises his hands up in surrender, slowly. Because clearly this is a sore spot. "I know that."
Tim's breathing is a little harsh, visibly shaken. He closes his eyes, brows scrunched. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't haveâ"
"No, it's okay." Danny assures, putting his hands down and watching Tim carefully. Something about this has put Tim off kilter, and Danny's not sure what it is.
"No, it's not." Tim forcefully breathes out. "You don't deserve that. You don't have to caâ"
Tim cuts himself off, biting his lips as if to physical stop the words. You don't have to care, Tim doesn't say, and that more than anything puts Danny in a complicated situation.
He could accept Tim's words. He could stop it here, and they could move on.
But then everything would change. It will change regardless, because up until now it's been daisies and rainbows and prank wars and strangely acrobatic bouts of sibling warfare. But if Danny accepts Tim's out then that's itâit makes their entire facade something they have to placate each other for.
It makes them well and truly fake. It would make it impossible for Danny to keep Tim, after this is all said and done.
And Danny still wants Tim in his life. He wants the Waynes in his life, even if only as "Tim's ex." However slim of a chance it is, he still wants to try.
So Danny takes a deep breath. "I think I deserve to care."
Tim shuts his eyes again, as if it pains him.
"And I think," Danny carefully says, moving a little closer and tugging on Tim's sleeve, "you deserve to be cared for, right now."
There's a loaded silence, the sound of a bullet sliding into the barrel mimicking the ticking of a grandfather clock somewhere in the Manor. Click, click, click, bullet after bullet.
"Unless," Danny tries again, as the barrel slowly fills, "you want toâŠeat pineapples instead."
And then suddenly, the click of the safety.
Tim crumples. Danny takes the tablet and opens his arms, Tim falling in like puzzle piece.
"I'm allergic to pineapples." Tim mumbles into Danny's chest, hands clutching at the back of Danny's shirt.
"Then myrrh?" Danny offers, running a hand up and down Tim's back as he considers for a moment, "Is, uh, myrrh supposed to be lit? OrâŠis it a tea?"
Tim chuckles, wet-sounding even as the rumbles of it travel against Danny's heart. "Both. It's a resin, or it can be turned into an oil. It depends on what you want to use it for."
"Of course you would know." Danny huffs a laugh, adjusting Tim until he's more snug against him, where Danny can lay his cheek against the top of his head. "Though I notice you didn't exactly answer."
"No, Danny." Tim laughs helplessly. "I do not want pineapples or myrrh."
"Good, good." Danny relaxes. "I justâI care about you Tim. Regardless ofâŠthe other stuff. Even if thisâŠdoesn't work out, I want you to be in my life for a long time."
Tim stiffens up a moment, which makes Danny think he did something wrongâor worse, that Tim doesn't want them to stay friends after all. But it's out there now, and Danny can't do anything but hold his breath.
"I'dâŠlike that too." Tim mumbles, squeezing Danny tighter and giving such relief to Danny that he almost melts from it.
The clearing of a throat knocks them both back to Earth, the two of them separating hastily like they'd been caught with their hands down each other's pants, and not just hugging tightly.
Danny tries to ban the imagery away from his mind as he meets the eyes of Alfred, the Butler cum Grandfather, who has a raised eyebrow at them.
âŠThat was very poor choicing in words, and Danny regrets everything about this entire evening.
"A-Alfie!" Tim stutters, and despite how exhausted his body must be it still manages to direct all blood flow to crawl up Tim's neck. "S-sorry, uhm."
"May I suggest you both retire to your room tonight, Master Tim?" Alfred, nonplussed, offers. Danny gets the distinct feeling he is mocking them. "I trust Master Danny will not be needing the guest room made up?"
Danny can feel his ears heat up at that, and when he glances at Timâyep, that blush has now crawled all the way up to his lovely little face. Fuck. Alfred is definitely messing with them.
Tim coughs, blush crawling up to his ears now. "No, Alfred, that'sâthat's quite alright, thanks."
"Very well." Alfred nods, doing an elegant about turn before pausing for a moment. "Might I say, Master Tim, how glad I am to see someone able to so deftlyâŠcare for you?"
Tim, who apparently defies the impossible, gets even redder. Danny, somehow proud beyond reason, musters up the courage to hold Tim's hand and squeeze it in support.
Tim squeezes back, and Danny might burst. Even if it's all fake, he'll have this.
"Good night, Master Tim, Master Danny." Alfred continues forward, but Danny can see a little smile peeking out.
"Bed?" Danny offers after a long moment, hopeful and trying not to sound it. He lowers his voice as he leans in close, as if to whisper sweet nothings, "Promise, you're safe with me."
Tim shivers, and Danny dares not hope forâŠfor mutual feelings, but he can at least hope for this, right? To be safe enough for Tim to have just this? To let Tim know he cares?
"âŠOk." Tim whispers back, lifting his head as their temples meet in a slow slideâa nuzzle, barely half of one. "You're safe with me too."
And if Tim, in his sleep, rolls until he's safely in Danny's arms that night, if Danny stays awake for as long as possible to savor the moment, well.
That's between themâanother little secret for them to keep.
===
The following Monday morning leaves Danny in a State.
He's riding a high of last night's endeavorâof surviving their first fight, of getting to feel Tim in his arms for the first time, of waking up with Tim in his arms.
Still, euphoric as it was it left Danny with little to no sleepâinstead of a ghost, he's a zombie for the day.
He slugs through his morning with the power of sheer will and Lucius' concerned gaze. The man has been more overt in his care for Danny, and Danny's still not really sure what to think about it. He'd think he had a fire core, with the way the warmth seeps into his chest about it.
(He adamantly does not think about the thought that Lucius is what he wanted his parents to be. He adamantly does not think about the thought that Bruce is what he wanted his parents to be, because this thing is fake and therefore not even possible.)
It's in the afternoon when things start to change.
Snacks start to appear at his desk, somehow when he's not looking. This is impressive, since Danny hardly leaves his desk. But lo and behold, there's a beef jerky stick in the brand he usually gets. A handful of those strawberry candies with the jelly inside, the kind they used to give at the dentist when he was younger, shows up in one of his drawers.
When Danny is flagging, closing his eyes for just a moment, he gets jolted with the scent of a very familiar Irish coffee sitting innocently by his elbow.
Danny had asked his coworkers about it, but either they're in on it or the mysterious benefactor is the Invisible Man.
But it's thanks to these boons that Danny survives the rest of the day (and, not in small part, because Lucius heartlessly kicks him out early and tells him to go to sleep).
He starts to get a clue when he exits WE to head home and sees Tim leaning up against a sleek black car, casual as can be, in a peacoat and that giant red scarf Danny loves so much.
"Hey, babe." Danny can't help the smile on his face, even tired as he is. "Did I miss a text?"
Danny doesn't think so, but he wouldn't put it past himself with how tired he was today.
"No, I thought I'd just surprise you." Tim softly says as Danny comes to a stop before him. He glances at the big doors to WE, before going on his tippy toes as he pulls Danny down by his jacket to give him a gentle, lingering kiss on the cheek. "Is that okay? Do youâŠwant pineapples orâŠ"
"Noâno, I. I'm not hungry. It's more than okay." Danny says, because he'll agree to anything Tim says if he gives him kisses like that, even if he's dead on his feet.
Tim looks into his eyes, searching for something, but seems to deem his answer good enough. He's ushered into the passenger seat and whisked away.
Danny breathes in slow, taking in the scent of Tim's personal car. He's only been in this car a handful of times, on account of how most of their dates are performative in nature and therefore should have some kind of audience as much as possible.
The amount of times one of the Waynes "crashed their dates" and they had to pretend to, in some convoluted way, pretend to not be mad about their alone time being encroached upon is frankly hilarious and the epitome of comedy.
But in the here and now, in Tim's car, it's nice, relaxing. Tim doesn't have any music on, which should feel oppressive, but all it does is give Danny ample space to just exist. To breathe and listen to Tim breathe, to feel isolated into himself but not be alone.
He's almost lulled into a sleep when the car comes to a stop, Tim telling Danny they've arrived sotto voce.
It takes all of Danny to unbuckle himself, and by the time he does Tim already has his door open with a hand stretched out to help him.
Danny, now in a sort of trance, lets himself be guided to the elevators and follows the gentle pull of Tim through the doorways until they're in the foyer of the penthouse.
He belatedly realizes he hasn't really said a thing since he got in the car and tries to start, but Tim shushes him and helps him out of his jacket and shoes in quick order.
Danny blinks, and suddenly he's sitting on his bed, the bedside lamp on and in pajamas. He vaguely remembers Tim leaving while he was changing, and before his addled thoughts can go beyond is he coming back, the door opens again to Tim with a cup of hot tea.
Tim sets the mug on a coaster on the nightstand, looking like he's leaving and Danny does something stupid.
Danny reaches up and snags Tim's sleeve. "Stay?"
It's a loaded question, sleepy as it is. Before last night, Tim and Danny firmly slept in different beds at the penthouse. Danny's become more comfortable here now, but it's still Tim's space. They've been together in the evenings before, watched documentaries and movies and read together in silence in the living room, but their rooms have been pointedly personal areas.
Tim, having frozen, knows this. Danny knows he knows this. Danny almost lets go, almost says sorry in the silence, probably would have already done all of that by now if he weren't so slow.
But Tim breathes out, and its like the air isn't compacted anymore.
"Give me a moment?" Tim whispers, as if he doesn't want to break Danny. "I'll be right back."
Danny lets go and watches as Tim shuffles outside, leaving the door open.
Danny takes his own breath, mind clouded as he settles himself on the inside of the bed, watching the steam of the tea rise and dissipate.
It feels like an eternity when Tim finally comes back, in his own pajamas and with his phone, tablet, and their respective chargers in hand.
He gets in the bed next to Danny, a bit of a tight fit with Danny's bulk but still more than enough room to provide space if necessary, and settles with all the chargers plugged in and his phone charging on the stand. He settles himself into the bed sitting up against the headboard, tablet on his lap, fluffing pillows until he's satisfied.
Danny watches all this happen on his side, tucked under the covers. He wants to shift his legs so that there is a point of contact between them, but doesn't dare. He's already pushed a lot tonight.
Tim fiddles with his tablet, adjusting the brightness so it's not blaringly white and bright, and takes a deep breath.
And, as if he's reading Danny's mind or on the same page or simply just the most perfect man alive, extends his hand for Danny to hold.
Danny latches onto it like a lifeline.
"Good night, Danny." Tim's voice is low, lilting. Hesitant.
"Good night, Tim." Danny whispers back, desperate and wired and unbearably exhausted.
Tim uses his other hand to turn off the light, and it's then that Danny realizes he's past the point of no return.
Last night, he didn't really have any hope. Not in the way that Danny fully wanted, at least.
Because last night did give him something, a sort of assurance that at the very least, Tim trusted him to an extentâthat there is a very real possibility they could at least be cordial and maybe even friends after all this.
But it doesn't change that fact that Danny wouldn't have what he wanted. That Danny, with Tim in his arms and darkness blanketing them, didn't think anything would change in the way he wanted.
He didn't think, no matter how close they've gotten, that Tim would entertain the idea of them. A them that isn't fake, a them that isn't performative, a them that is real and romantic in nature.
He thought having Tim's trust, being close to him would be enough. That he could weather the heartbreak even if it shattered him. That perhaps Tim's family would see him every now and then, the way Steph seems to hang around, or the way Tim still talks to Bernard on occasion.
That his heartbreak and loneliness could maybe still be something, even if only a sliver of what he actually wants.
But Danny looks up at the ceiling of the guest room in Tim's penthouse, and realizes it's all bullshit.
Because it's covered in glow in the dark starsâbecause Tim put up glow in the dark stars all over the ceiling of what is effectively Danny's room in Tim's Penthouse. Because Danny had a bad day with no discernible reason other than fatigue, and Tim decided to leave him snacks and his favorite coffee and put glow in the dark stars on the ceiling for Danny. Tim squeezes his hand, as if he's unsure if Danny likes it or not.
And Danny loves it, is the problem. Danny loves it a lot.
He's been trying to convince himself that things will be okay. When he first got into this, he tried to convince himself it would be fun, that he would have a blast just being with his crush. And then again, when he started texting Tim and found his proper way of texting unbearably cute and annoying, that they could be friends and Danny would be fine with that.
And then again when he freaked out about meeting Bruce with Sam and Tucker and Jazzâhe fought tooth and nail to convince them it would be okay, that he would be okay.
And most damning of all last night, with Tim in his arms, he tried to convince himself that this would be enough.
But it's not. It's not enough, because he loves Tim and all that comes with him and it might fucking ruin him.
It might have already ruined him.
"Thank you," Danny breathes out, because he isn't sure he can say anything else without ruining this moment. He pulls Tim's hand to his lips, not quite a kiss but more of a suggestion of one.
Tim squeezes his hand, tight, but his voice is hesitant. "Still not hungry?" Is this okay?
Danny closes his eyes because he's overwhelmed, and maybe heartbroken, and maybe not. He wants to say of course it's okay but settles on keeping Tim's hand in his, pressing it against his cheek, forcing himself to breathe out. "Not even a little bit."
After a long moment Tim starts to work on his tablet, the taps hesitant at first but slowly gaining traction.
Danny thoughts are whirling, even as he body starts to shut down into sleep.
Next month is the wedding, and the tentative end date to this entire charade.
They're supposed to stage some kind of break up some time after the event, so as not to overshadow the couple's special day. It's nebulous at best, and he'd thought he'd take advantage of that, but it isn't enough for Danny anymore.
Danny drifts into sleep with only one thought in mind:
After the wedding, he'll ask Tim. He'll ask him if they could extendâif they could be real.
He's already lost, after all, so why not risk it all?
===
The wedding, as one might expect, aims to kill Danny over and over and over again.
The first attempt is when Tim comes to pick him up in that stupidly attractive peacoat and equally stupidly cute giant red scarf.
The second attempt is when Tim opens the door to the bathroom of their hotel room and steps out looking like a God in a three piece suit that all the groomsmen are wearing. That shade of blue really brings out his eyes, makes him look extremely kissable. Danny doesn't, of course, but it's a near thing.
The third attempt is when the Wayne kids all loiter around the venue to muck around, Danny dancing with Tim in a horrible attempt at a waltzâeventually giving up and just swinging each other around like they're kids and not full grown adults.
The fourth attempt is the giggle Tim gives him when he dips him.
The fifth attempt is when Danny watches Tim walk down the aisle with his paired bridesmaid, a stunning black woman with her natural hair teased into heart shaped space buns. The smile Tim gives him as he walks past nearly does him in, but he prevailsâjust barely.
The sixth attempt is when they lock eyes across the room, as Dick says his vows.
The seventh is the rueful look he gets when Kori says her vows, something about how handsome her groom is and tricks they learned working together.
The eighth attempt is when an explosion punches a hole into the roof of the venue, and a woman with long black hair and a concerningly skin tight metal looking outfit underneath a sort of black bodysuit and knee high black boots floats above them with a saucy little smirk.
"My, my." The woman really is very good at projecting her voice, "Quite the party, and I don't get an invite?"
"Where would I send the invite to?" Kori sneers, "You have been missing for a long time, sâBlackfire."
"Excuses, Excuses," The woman sighs, hands glowing an eerie blackâsimilar to Phantom's ectocharges. "Let's get this party really started, shall we?"
Pandemonium breaks out then, as everyone is ushered out in a panic. The woman, Blackfire if Kori is to be believed, is laughing haughtily and almost cruelly as she starts blasting their surroundings. The Waynes all scatter, and the crowd moves like a tidal wave.
There is a lot of smoke and screaming and flashing cameras. Batman arrives in a flurry and bright blue glowing on his chest, which isn't a color Danny would expectâthen again, he didn't really expect to see Batman flying either.
Danny struggles, unsure what to do. He can't turn into Phantom, crammed as close as he is in the crowd being yanked this way and that.
A piece of the roof caves in, Blackfire's laughter bleeding through the chaos, and Batman swoops in to grab it.
"Batwing!" Someone near his ear screams, which explains the different skin color, but doesn't give him any relief like it does to the people around him.
He can't phase through the crowd, he can't see any of the Waynes, and worst of all he can't see Tim.
Is he okay? He was standing next to Dick when Blackfire came in and Danny can't bear to thinkâ
He's spat out of the crowd when they get through the large doors of the venue, practically stumbling off as he almost trips his way through a side hallway. He hadn't gotten to explore the venue much, too preoccupied with how pretty Tim looked and how nice everything was and how fucking hard and scary it will be to confess to his hopefully-soon-to-be real boyfriend after all this is over, but he saw side doors in the main room, so surely there must be a way in that way.
It's even more important to him that they get through this, because he will tell Tim. He won't accept any other outcome.
He's rushing off on a split hallway, curling around a corner to see Dick rushing out of the venue.
He's about to call out when another man beats him to it, slipping out of the smoke to get behind Dick to wrap a bulky arm around his neck, the other hand bracing against the back of Dick's head to keep him in a chokehold.
Danny doesn't think, he goes invisible.
"Losing your touch, little bird." The man croons, and it makes Danny feel slimey as he rushes through to help somehow without being exposed for his powers.
"Fuck you, Slade." Dick growls. Before Danny can do anything to help, Dick already has his legs swung up and is flipping out of the lock in some strange twist, beginning to fight with the man with alarming force.
Damn, he knew Dick was bendy but this? The sight of Dick, heartwarming and friendly and really actually kind of dorky, fighting with such brutality brings Danny up short. He's once again at a crossroads because the back of his mind keeps screaming for Tim, but he can't just leave.
But once again the decision is taken away from him as two bodies slam through the door, just narrowly dodging Dick and this Slade character's brawl and Danny himself, standing stupidly at a loss.
"Star!" Dick grunts, when Slade takes the opportunity to get a mean right hook in to his gut.
In the rubble, two women are growling and hissing like cats, hands in hands and eyes glowing unnatural colors.
The woman on top is Blackfire, black hair and blazing purple eyes and fists fizzing against her opponent's hands.
The woman on her back is familiar, but it takes him a moment to recognize her. Her hands and eyes glow a familiar green, less goopy like ectoplasm but more plasma adjacent. She's wearing the tattered remains of Kori's wedding dress, but the details are all different. Her skin is more orange and hair more flaming redâbut he swears he knows her. A leg kicks out, and there's a weird ankle lock looking device on it, spitting out the occasional electric sparkâthe woman's skin color and eyes flicking back to Kori's countenance like a glitch.
They struggle a moment before it all clicks and Danny recognizes her. StarâStarfire, Tamaranean Princess and former member of the Teen fucking Titans, manages to get her leg folded and her foot planted in Blackfire's stomache to swiftly fucking canon the rogue back into the room.
"Go!" Dick grunts, still struggling with Slade, "I'll be fine, just go!"
Starfire doesn't hesitate, flying back in as an animalistic screech echoes inside and a black flamed bolt whizzes through. Danny takes it as his cue, confused and still so very panicked, to run after her into the smoke and rubble.
Inside, the venue's a fucking mess. What was once a beautiful tableau filled with an abundance of flowers and what surely must have been millions of expensive fucking decor is now reduced to ashes and ruins. Furniture has been flipped up, curtains singed, and there's still a bottleneck near the main entrance where people are trying desperately to get out and are being waylaid by stray rubble.
He can spot Waynes everywhereâDuke grabbing a boy from under what must be the only upright table on the side and rushing out with him, Kate hefting a man twice her size through the other side hallway with Steph and Cass ushering a group of woman just behind her, even Damian and his friend Jon helping by trying to maintain the crowded main exit with Bruce and Babs.
But he can't fucking find Tim. Above them, Starfire and Blackfire are fighting in a light show, slightly obscured by smoke and mostly only trackable via the purple and green lights. A stray blast escapes from the dust cloud above, and it's like a moment from the moviesâthe green catches his eye and leads him straight to Tim. His suit is dirty and ripped and covered in mysterious dirt from somewhere, and still, he's handsome and everything Danny's ever wanted and has a little girl in his arms.
Danny should not be thinking about how fucking good he looks, like some kind of fuckingâhero or male lead or, or maybe the love of Danny's life and possibly the father of his future children. They're both male, but Danny could figure something out, he's sure.
More blasts dive through the air this way and that, Tim hurriedly passing the little girl off to someone through the doorway just before he slams it closed as another blast speeds through, debris now blocking part of the door Tim was just standing by.
Panicked, Danny tumbles through the venue as he tries to track Tim, going visible again behind a pillar that stands in the corner hidden from even the smoke and dust. Tim's now in the opposite corner after probably dodged rubble and energy blasts, and Danny screams for him just as Dick cuts through, still fighting that Slade guy with terrifying rage.
It stops Danny short, and he dodges around just as Blackfire gets blasted down towards them and straight into the two men. Dick does a dizzying amount of backflips to get some space between them, leaving Slade as the main target. Danny has half a mind to wonder if Starfire did that on purpose, and a small percentile to conjure up images of Nightwing doing those exact fucking flips.
Slade, however, catches her cleanly. He spins into a roundhouse kick with her in his arms and Blackfire takes the opportunity to blast at Dick. Danny shoves his way through to tackle the man out of the way, thankfully, and the roll into each other and slam into a nearby wall.
"I do love a man who knows what he's doing." Blackfire practically purrs from where she is held, pretty as can be even covered in dust and grime, in Slade's arms.
"A woman who doesn't miss a chance," Slade reflects back, voice smooth as butter, "is my kind of woman."
It's the kind of banter that would make him gag in Amity, that or laugh. It's giving Danny whiplash.
He's been in middle of battles before, but that was as Phantom and even then it's been fucking years. Distantly, he recognizes that this panic, this helplessness and confusion, might be his ghost senses trying to get him to transform, to protect his Obsession regardless of the cost.
Danny, knowing full well that he can't do that without serious consequences, beats it down with the relentlessness of a man in fucking Love and is Scared about it.
A green blast shoots between them, causing Blackfire to fly up with a wink and an air kiss as she ruthlessly leaves Slade to deal with it. The man simply huffs, not exactly put out, and somehow manages to dodge it.
Danny, meanwhile, ducks the rubble the blast throws his way and heads straight to Tim as best he can.
The rest of the Waynes have disappeared, and the crowd has almost cleared the venue. When Tim spots him, his face is hard and determined and worried.
It's almost a straight shot, with Tim and Danny as point A and point B, trying to meet in the middle like some kind of dramatic action shot scene where the protagonists clutch at each other desperately to declare their love at each other.
The ninth attempt is the Universe reminding Danny that this whole thing is a fucking farce, that what Danny and Tim have is built upon lies and truths masquerading as lies and a stupid fucking Obsession that is integral to Danny's DNA.
Blackfire kicks heavily into Starfire, causing the hero to slam into the roof above them. A large chunk of debris starts to fall down on where Danny is about to end up. The momentum Danny has makes it hard for him to stop, and Tim is heading right toward him.
On instinct, Danny catches him in his arms and Tim twists. They turn, as if this were just an extension of their dance from before and not in the middle of a god damn rogue attack.
Except this is familiarâthis is something he knows. His mind takes a moment to catch up, but his body remembers.
Evidently, so does Tim's.
Because Danny pulls out a lipstick laser and cuts the bit of debris falling down at them, and Tim wide steps out and spins them clear. He hooks an arm around Danny's neck, falling back and bringing them both down to dodge a stray chair being through at them.
Danny catches them on his hands, staring wide eyed down at his fake boyfriend who he's pretty sure he's thoroughly in love with hanging off him and staring straight back up at him, and his mind finally catches up.
Because he's done this before, years ago. He's danced this dance at another attack, with another personâwith a hero who has a secret identity.
"Red Robin." Danny breathes, and Tim's expression crumbles.
Around them, chaos is still whirling. Batman has arrived, and Danny's fast moving thoughts whisper to him that Bruce probably ducked out to change the moment the commotion started.
He vaguely wonders if the rest of the family has their suits stashed somewhere on the venue, because the dots are connecting and Danny can't stop it.
Starfire, a known associate of Nightwingâbendy and ruthless and a beacon of hope. Signal, who asked him questions all those months ago with Mr. Freeze. He hasn't met the others in their suits but it's easy to see now. It's easy to understandâbecause once you know one, you know them all.
But the most important thing is Tim laying beneath him looking like the world has come crashing down.
"âŠPhantom." Tim whispers back, as if compelled to despite the reluctanceâas if in pure reflex.
And suddenly the world stops. Tim knows. Judging by the guilty grimace he's known. For how long? What does this mean? Why does he look like that? LikeâŠlike this is the worst possible outcomeâ
But Danny can't get his thoughts in line fast enough, and before he knows it Tim is rolling them until he can grab Danny by the bicep and dragging him towards one of the hallways.
"We'll talk later. Rogue attacks first." Tim gruffly does not look at Danny, focusing forward and in the here and now.
Danny can't do anything but do as he's bid. He does that a lot with Tim.
It's a blur after that, the wedding in near shambles until the Bats all sort it out.
Blackfire has disappeared with an air kiss and some more collateral damage, and Slade has equally disappeared in a silent slip. It's all very anticlimactic and unsatisfying in his opinion, but it's not his territory so he will stay in his lane.
Quicker than Danny can really manage to comprehend, the wedding is back on. Dick and Kori do a dramatic reunion, and by the power vested in Bruce they get married in the midst of wreckage and tatters.
Somehow, Danny has found himself beside Tim again, clapping and cheering.
In the euphoria, despite the confusion and uncertainty, Danny turns to Tim toâŠto do something. To kiss him, maybe confess his love like he planned to not three hours earlier.
Except when he does, Tim is no longer next to him.
Looking around, nobody seems to have noticedâthe tenth attempt on Danny's life, the successful one, is this:
Danny, surrounded by family that isn't his own and friends he's made on false premises, standing there bereft.
It's the confused hissing that brings you back to Earth.
Metaphorically speaking.
When you blink, ocean salt stings your eyes but your vision is clear and there is a creature before you trying to claw at your life jacket.
There are some very concerning noises happening to your left and right, a lot of crunches and snortles that denote some kind of horror that you're sure you're not able to withstand at the moment, so you focus on the teeth in front of you.
They are. Very sharp looking.
Thoughts start to flicker in and out of your addled brain, like waves against the short of your conscious.
Those teeth will kill me. Where are my friends. I will die here. Fuck those claws are big. This lifejacket is very sturdy.
And then you realize the other sirens are laughing at your siren. Well, not your siren, the siren that's trying to kill you. The siren that looks like they might cry from the sneering.
"Stop laughing." You say groggily, and gods above, they do.
The ocean lapping against your body and the distant sounds of birds are the only noises you hear for a long moment.
Your throat feels like its been through the shredder, and you feel unfathomably thirsty, but insanity doesn't discriminate.
"It's not..." You croak, looking up into the wide eyes of the siren before you struggling to take your life jacket off to fucking eat you. "It's not nice to laugh when she's trying so hard."
Another beat, and then another siren's head pops into your vision. Her visage is almost entirely covered in blood an viscera, and you're trying really hard not to think about who it might be the remains of.
"Prey is right." The second siren slowly says, almost painfully like it's not used to English despite singing a facsimile of it to beguile them earlier. "Not nice."
She elongates the "s" of nice, snake-like, and there's a glimmer of light in her black eyes that seem tinted with impressed.
You try to ignore how proud you are of it, and it's easy because the fear is choking you.
"Prey is smart." Your siren mumbles, shyly towards the other sirens. "Prey wakes up, prey has yellow shell."
A murmur of agreement, in a melodic kind of language you don't recognize. The glances your siren sends you seems hesitant, almost thankful.
"Clever prey." The second siren agrees, putting a hand on your siren's hand, lowering you back down to the sea. "Clever fish."
You float amidst blood and focus on your siren, because if you don't you might throw up and cry and say stupid shit.
"Clever fish." Your siren smiles, teeth so sharp and threatening, echoed slowly by the other sirens.
You think about your friends, and the tears are threatening to burst but you hold on. Splashes can be heard, like something plunging down. One by one by one by--gods, how many are there--until the second siren smiles at you too.
For a moment you break eye contact with your siren, watching as the second siren bids you a bloody goodbye.
"Stay clever," your siren says, slowly sounding out the words as she brings your gaze back to her. "Stay dry."
And then she's gone, and you're floating alone in the middle of the sea.
You look around you, the only trace of what just happened the leftover blood seeping into the waters. A distance away, you can see your friend's boat.
Perfect, pristine.
When you finally get yourself onto the deck, you breathe.
