fake dating au with timbern part 3! this is the final part of my little idea and i hope you guys like it<3 its such a fun concept, might make a full fic with it idk
so basically, this is how it goes: tim knows that if he and bernard are going to keep this going for a long time coming, he’s going to have to fully commit to pretending about this whole thing even to his family. if he’s gone this long, this many months, without saying a word about suddenly dating a boy, there’s no way he can tell them now that it was all fake. and besides, the point of it being fake is that he and bernard can get away with stuff even with tim’s family around. so why would he expose the lie?
well, maybe there’s something morally wrong about pretending to be gay and fake coming out to your family, but he doesn’t really know how that would work considering he’s not exactly exploiting being gay for bad things. nor is he harming any real gay people in the process. in fact, wouldn’t being a famous queer icon be inspiring for little kids all over gotham?
whatever, that’s something tim can overthink at a later date when he’s staying up at night staring at his ceiling, trying to fall asleep because it’s four am and he’s done with patrol by that point.
so, he spends most of his days and any time that he can spare even part of his brain power to thinking of how he’s going to do this. who does he go to first? what does he say? does he bring bernard with him? how far apart does he spread each coming out? should he practice his fear responses for this, since coming out is meant to be scary? or would he naturally feel nervous in the moment because he doesn’t want to fuck up and expose the lie?
so many questions, so much thinking, and it feels like he’s running out of time even though he knows that if his family has gone this long without forcing him into a small room and interrogating him, that means they’re willing to give him all the time in the world. and he also knows that they’re aware of his turmoil when they patrol together. he can visibly see them give him space as he twists his lips and tosses around ideas in his mind.
one night, he and nightwing are hanging out on the edge of a rooftop (dick is visiting gotham for the next couple weeks after leaving his job as a cop in bludhaven. tim is happy he’s here, and he’s also happy to support his brother through this. though he also always secretly hoped dick would stop being a cop, considering how corrupt even GCPD is), sharing burgers they swung by bat burger for (usually they go to big belly burger instead, but it had to temporarily close for repairs after the latest killer croc attack. that place literally never closes, so if it does, you know either half the building got destroyed, or the world is ending.) tim is copying dick in swinging his legs rhythmically over the open air, both their gloves greasy from shoving fries into their mouths.
it’s a comfortable silence, only slightly weighted by tim’s thoughts. tim, in the peaceful quiet of hanging out with his big brother, feels fully confident in coming to the conclusion that he should fake come out to dick first. dick is always safe, for any of tim’s troubles or secrets, and he’s the most supportive person tim has ever met- save for maybe bernard. he also is the least likely to be mad at tim for keeping his silence this long.
not that dick is some saint who wouldn’t be mad at all, but tim knows some of his family is hurt that he has gone public before he had even hinted to possibly liking anybody other than girls to any of them. and he also knows that they know they can’t exactly be mad, because queerness is such a specific secret to keep.
it’s as tim is looking over at nightwing so he can open his mouth to ask a question, just a small one to get a feel for things, that tim’s voice dies in his throat. nightwing is already looking over at him, and he has a small, patient smile curling his mouth. behind the mask, tim knows that his brothers pale eyes would be alight with warmth, and a careful concern that he wouldn’t voice unless tim would want him to.
and suddenly, tim feels so safe and secure in that moment, in that soft bubble only dick can make, that he blurts out without any input from his brain, “i’m bisexual.” tim’s mouth snaps immediately closed with a click of his teeth, and he instantly tenses up like he’s going to jump off this roof with his grapple in hand. for some reason, his heart is racing, and he feels so terrified at his brothers response that he almost feels sick.
why is he reacting this way? he’s not even bi, he doesn’t- he hadn’t even decided on a fake label yet. why does he feel so scared? it’s not real. and he knows his brother, he knows- he’s not-
“oh tim,” nightwing quietly says, his smile dropping to make way for full blown concern and gentle, loving care. he gathers up the remains of their food and sets the bags on the other side of him so he can scoot closer to tim, drawing him into his side and squeezing him close. “thank you for telling me, little brother. you know i don’t mind, right? you’re still my tim, and this changes nothing.”
tim doesn’t know why he blinks away tears that form beneath the mask. he doesn’t know why his blood is thundering in his ears even as his heart is beginning to slow and calm. he doesn’t know why he reaches up to hug dick back, almost desperately seeking the reassurance his brother is freely giving to him. he nods silently, not trusting his voice to cooperate enough to speak.
“i mean it, timmy. i love you. and i’m proud of you. thank you for coming to me.” nightwing rubs his hand down tim’s back in slow circles, pressing a soft kiss to his damp hair from when it had rained earlier. his voice is merely a whisper, so full of love it makes tim’s heart ache, and more tears clump his eyelashes. “why now, little bird? it’s been months since the gala,” he says hesitantly, pulling back a bit so he can look down at tim.
tim, who looks back at him with a hesitant expression, suddenly so at a loss that he doesn’t even know what to say. he hadn’t planned this thoroughly enough. he had literally just came to the conclusion that he would tell dick. and then he felt compelled to just- do it. right now. how does he explain that?
“because…” tim starts, his voice choked and quiet, but the words are flowing now and he can’t stop them. “i met berns- bernard- at a gala…” so soft, he says bernard’s nickname. it’s not real. “and he was the most vibrant thing i had ever seen. he was strong headed and opinionated and he said the most outlandish things but he’s so smart and he challenges me every time when we talk and i- i saw him again and again and we danced in the moonlight and he held me like i’m the only thing that mattered and i couldn’t- I’d never known that. that feeling. not with any girl. and certainly never with a boy. how was i supposed to say anything?”
tim is saying these things and they’re true in the way that he fabricated them for this express purpose and not in literally any other way, but also it feels as though he’s baring his soul and how could he possibly be doing that when it’s all fake and he and bernard never even got to kiss in front of his parents? why does this feel like the most truth he’s ever spoken in his life?
he can’t look into dick’s masked face anymore, not for any of this. he’ll never speak again if he does.
“how was i supposed to tell you about this thing that makes so much sense when i look into bernard’s eyes and when there’s cameras flashing but not here, where it’s me and you and there’s the me that you and i have always known and it doesn’t include bernard at all? how was i…how was i supposed to tell you about him? he’s so…there’s no words for him, night. i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, but i couldn’t…” why is he feeling this, why does this matter, it’s all fake it’s all fake it’s all fake- “it was so easy to just take his hand and run away. but the rest? harder than i could have ever imagined,” he finally finishes, his voice but a wisp on the wind.
god. what is this? he misses bernard. that’s what tim knows for sure, in all of this. everything is easy with berns.
he tries not to choke on the ever expanding balloon of feelings that are spreading in his chest, strangling his vocal cords and setting his nerves on fire.
silence rings out for a long time, and when tim finally works up the courage to look over at nightwing, his brother is staring at him with unreadable eyes, his mask off and in his black and blue hands. tim startles, hand reaching over to help his brother hide his identity again, but dick just catches them, and holds them oh so softly. like tim’s hands are so utterly precious. and tim tries not to twitch at that.
dick looks at him, and smiles.
“you really love him, don’t you, tim-bird?” dick asks softly, such fondness in his eyes made dark by the night. tim startles, opens his mouth to reflexively reject that- love? what are you talking about? he doesn’t- he’s not-
and he- stops. tenses all over again. tries not to think of his best friend and his kind, sharp eyes, and lemony vanilla scent, and soft spun golden hair glinting in the rising sunlight.
“I- yeah…yeah, i do,” tim croaks out, the tears fully flowing past his waterline and cutting lines down his cheeks. why is he crying? what is this feeling?
dick coos at him and wipes his tears with his thumbs, and he pulls tim into another hug.
“it’s okay, little brother. you’re going to figure all of this out. and you won’t do it alone. okay? i’ll always be here for you.” and he ruffles tim’s hair enough to mess it up, and tim winges and groans at him, trying to fix his hair again.
“but next time, tim? please just run at least something by anyone, first. so we can control the media and beat back the vultures for you. okay?” dick says, a sternness in his voice as he squeezes tim’s shoulders. tim laughs softly.
“yeah yeah, whatever old man.”
and so it goes. tim told dick first, on a whim, and later, when he climbs into bernard’s room through his second story window, his friend laughs in his face at his misery for not having planned it out first, and then gives him a long hug to comfort him for…everything else.
the next person he tells is stephanie. he plans this one out, and he does it solo while they’re going out for milkshakes. his voice shakes as he reaches his hands out, and she takes them without hesitation while sipping on her chocolate shake. he tells her everything he can, and again none of it feels like a lie, even though most of it should. again, he has to look away and blink back tears, and again he is offered comfort. stephanie patiently wipes his tears and cups his face, telling him with soft eyes that she’s glad he’s the second person he told.
and then she smacks him in the chest hard enough he wheezes, and scolds him for waiting so long, and for not telling her first. though she lets that last one go relatively easily because she understands when he says dick made him feel safe, and he really just needed his older brother in that moment. she’s angry at him, ultimately, for taking so long to just talk to her. and she doesn’t say it, but he can see in the way her lips jut out that she thought he was avoiding her or something. that he was afraid she would hurt him. and she is quick, and loud, to emphasize that she would never.
it’s the best milkshake tim had ever gotten.
and then he tells jason, one random night after the red hood breaks into his apartment with a wound in his shoulder and a cig between his lips, his helmet dropped at his feet. it’s as he’s wrapping jason’s shoulder that he just- says it. like with dick. except obviously this time he was much more prepared. and when all jason did was grunt and nod his head, huffing out a quick, “pansexual,” in solidarity, tim tries not to cry, a fucking gain. he’s never cried this much in his life. he sighs in relief, pats jason’s shoulder in gratitude, and winces when jason grunts again in pain.
“last time i tell you sorry, jerkoff.”
“wha- jerkoff? what are you, from the 80’s?”
and he continues going down the line (with bernard there as support at times), some of his family giving casual, quiet approval, smiling small smiles at him at finally being trusted with this piece of him he was seemingly so afraid to entrust them with, and some of them jumping at the chance to ask him how they can help with the media or with bernard or with any advice they could give, while also sternly scolding him for not being more careful with his identity towards the public. duke even asks him if he wants to go pride together next year, since june has already long passed, and tim shyly smiles and says yes, already thinking of ways he could design his suit so he could visit it as robin as well as tim drake-wayne.
he leaves cassandra and bruce for last, biting his lip as he thinks of who he should go to first (because, ultimately, he’s utterly terrified of bruce, and cass will figure him out as soon as he turns to look at her. she will see right through him, and he doesn’t know what he’s going to do.) he and bernard are cuddled up close on the couch at bernard’s empty house - his parents gone on another weeks long trip without him - as bernard idly thumbs at his phone while chewing gum and blowing and popping bubbles. tim is thinking with his head hanging off the armrest, not really seeing bernard’s house with the calculations running in his mind.
“hey tim?” berns asks, drawing tim out of his head for the first time in hours. tim hums and sits up a little. “can i tell you something real quick?”
“yeah sure, bern. what’s up?” tim quietly affirms, looking over at bernard who has yet to look away from his phone. the blonde hums as he shuffles a bit, popping another gum bubble.
the world- stops. tim stops breathing, stops blinking, stops thinking. he stares, wide eyed and so thoroughly caught off guard he knows his expression must be comical.
“wh- what?” he splutters, the word practically wheezed out of his stuttering chest. “what are you talking about? i’m not-”
“if you dare to lie to me right now, timothy drake-wayne, i will sell all your organs to bolivian pirates,” bernard calmly threatens, his voice a soft, sweet thing that only makes tim blink more in complete bafflement.
tim…closes his mouth. sits up even straighter. opens his mouth again. closes it. opens it-
“…how?” he finally asks in a hesitant murmur.
bernard finally looks up at him, turning off his phone with a knowing smile. that look, that sharp, piercing look that has noticed and seen more than tim had ever guessed it would, cuts into his flesh and leaves tim feeling flustered, and uncomfortable. but not like- it only makes tim want to stay more. his friend has never been more intriguing. and that’s saying something.
“you’re always leaving our hang outs for some family emergency or WE troubles, you’re always bruised and bleeding, your reflexes are frankly insane, you look and sound like robin when i’ve really sat down and thought about it, you’re way too built for some wealthy former CEO that goes to the gym a few days out of the week, and i’ve found pieces of your suit lying around your room before. so. yeah, i’d say it’s pretty obvious to me,” bernard deadpans all in one breath, his small smile growing into a smug grin the more he speaks.
“oh but don’t worry. nobody else would see these things. you’re usually pretty good at hiding it. i’m just…around a lot. and paranoid,” bernard continues, casual and flippant and so, so brilliant tim could kiss him. (could he? no. it’s fake, and even really close best friends don’t kiss on the lips. even if it’s celebratory. or. well. is this celebratory? not exactly. but more like tim celebrating bernard’s genius. why is he having this line of thought, they’d never kiss unless it’s for the cover, just shut up brain.)
“wow,” tim articulately says, blinking so rapidly he can’t see through his lashes. “um- oh my god. am i really that terrible at hiding it?” he asks, cringing in disbelief.
bernard chuckles and shakes his head. “you’re actually kind of good. but still terrible enough for me to notice. it’s only gotten funnier over time.”
tim groans and hides his face in his hands and bernard laughs louder.
“wow. yeah. so. i’m robin and you- figured it out, damn, you’re a genius, berns. wow. marry me?” tim says, just spewing out whatever pops into his fried brain.
bernard laughs harder, clutching his stomach.
“nuh uh, not until we’re at least 25, timmy boy,” bernard laughs out between wheezes, snorting up a storm. tim tries to contain his giggles as he shakes his head, flopping on top of bernard and feeling him laugh under him as he’s forced to bear tim’s weight and go back to cuddling him.
“don’t call me timmy,” he sullenly says. bernard just starts up his uncontrollable laughter again, and tim smiles.
so. tim tells cass first, second to last out of everyone. and he was right, she does see right through him. but not- not the way he expected. he visits her at her safe house-turned apartment, and she takes one look at him standing there in his jeans and baggy shirt, with his shaggily cut mullet (bernard did it for him one night. they cut each others hair, and tim helped bernard dye his normally bright blonde hair into a deep strawberry blonde. a subtle change that bernard enjoyed looking at in the mirror, and that tim had enjoyed infinitely more than he thought he would. they had done it for no reason at all, with tim simply asking if bernard wanted to do it with him), and his unsure expression.
she smiles, so brightly and warmly, and she says in her soft, deep voice, “thank you for telling me, little brother.”
and tim’s brain whites out.
because, if she knew immediately that he was going to come out to her, and she saw right through his lies and his nerves, then…then that means she sees the truth. the truth that had made him cry almost every time he came out to his family. the truth that made his heart sing whenever bernard smiled or laughed, and his button nose scrunched up, and his bright brown eyes sparkled with the light of a thousand suns.
and she knows. of course she does. she sees him visibly pass out while staying conscious, and she frowns in concern as she grabs his arm and ushers him to the couch. she signs to him that she’ll make some hot chocolate so they can sit together, and tim- tries to stave off a panic attack. tries not to have this realization that he can feel coming. that he already knows but refuses to actually know.
she makes the hot chocolate, passes him a mug and forces him to take a small sip, and she waits silently for him to gather himself. for him to painstakingly pick up the pieces and shove them all into a locked box.
hours pass, the hot chocolate long since been drunk, and he and cass’ feet are tangled up together as they watch a quiet show on the TV. cass turns to him, and he does the same almost immediately. her eyes are a fathomless black that swallow him whole, that reach into his soul and iron it out so she can see every detail. she smiles.
“it’s okay, tim. you’ll always have him,” is all she says, in that gravelly tone that tim has always found comfort in ever since his sister first learned to talk. tim swallows, and tries to stave off the realization all over again. he just- blinks, knowing that she can see his confusion and his gratitude and his fear.
knowing that she can see his-
“just don’t lie,” she continues, syncing her breathing with his. he calms as she does. “that’s all you have to do.”
he doesn’t really get her words in the moment, but over time, it all makes sense.
he tells bruce and he’s shaking in his boots the whole time but he doesn’t even get the chance to gasp out his last few words before his father is pulling him into his wholly-encompassing embrace, whispering to him i know chum. it’s okay. you don’t have to say it. just let me handle it at the next gala.
and tim doesn’t know why he was ever afraid in the first place.
tim looks up into grey blue eyes, eyes crinkle up with the fake airheadedness of brucie wayne, and that go dead with cold precision beneath the cowl. in that moment, with tim absolutely terrified to tell his dad the biggest lie he’s ever had (even over robin), tim only sees a quiet, fatherly love that would burn the world down before he would ever see any of his kids hurt and afraid.
tim really tries to hold it in, but he’s blubbering into his dad’s shoulder before the night ends anyway.
and fast forwarding several years later, tim and bernard are still “going strong” and nobody except cass is in on the lie. when both bernard and tim had turned 18, they had moved out of their homes and into a shared apartment. to keep up with the illusion, and to share rent (even though neither of them would have struggled with it.) tim takes on more responsibility at WE now that he’s a shareholder there, and bernard goes to gotham U for college. they go on public dates, that since they were kids they had mostly just treated as regular hang outs like in private, except they held hands and sometimes kissed. after years of this, it had become comfortable routine that neither of them even thought about anymore.
with bernard in on the whole caped secret, tim and bernard are the closest they’ve ever been, and they are the only two people in the world that know everything (except, that night with cass…no. tim had buried it all deep down, it didn’t matter anymore.) tim couldn’t imagine doing any of this with anyone else, and it’s the easiest thing in the entire world to go waltzing with bernard at wayne galas, and to walk down the sidewalk in the narrows with bernard’s hand clutched in his.
this is the life they’ve both chosen, and somehow, it’s not terrible in the least. they still leave those galas early, giggling like the school boys they used to be, and notably, they finally got to make out in front of bernard’s parents when they were both 20. suffice it to say, it was incredibly worth it to hear their offended noises and see their disgusted faces (and to feel bernard’s plush, delicious lips on his. fuck, it’s all fake, what even is that?)
they’re 25 now, and tim is sitting at their kitchen island, closing his laptop after finally finishing the last of his reports. he looks over at bernard bustling about in the kitchen, making them some spiced chicken and coconut rice for dinner, a “kiss the cook” apron draped over his oversized shirt and nothing else but a pair of boxers. he’s humming a tune stuck in his head, shimmying his shoulders as he goes to grab the coconut milk from the fridge.
tim is resting his chin on his hand and watching him with an idle smile pulling at his lips before he’s even consciously aware of it, and mildly, as if to say something about the weather, he says, “marry me.”
bernard- stops. his humming cuts off as he looks at tim over his shoulder. he looks back at the pan and cuts the heat to low, before shuffling over to the counter to raise a brow at tim.
tim blinks. lifts his head up and straightens. holds bernard’s confusedly amused gaze. a flush brightens tim’s face enough he probably looks like a tomato.
“marry me,” he blurts out again, not even really thinking about what he’s saying. he’s just- he said what came to mind. and…he hadn’t lied. like cass said, tim had promised himself he wouldn’t lie to bernard from that point on, and he hadn’t. and now he’s just…his head was empty, and it was only filling with thoughts of bernard like this all the time, forever, for the rest of their shared lives. just- aren’t they married already?
bernard’s fond confusion drops as something like dread and bewilderment and realization blooms across his face. he barks out a laugh.
“oh my- fucking god tim, have we really been dating this whole time?” he asks, in complete and utter bafflement.
tim snorts. shakes his head- nods his head. starts laughing too.
they start laughing all over again, and as they do, tim pulls out a small box.
bernard stops laughing instantly. the sound dies in his throat like a mosquito that buzzed too close to an electricity lamp. tim wipes the tears from his eyes as he sets the velvety box between them, even as more keep coming and spill onto his cheeks.
“marry me?” he asks, dead serious this time. he opens the box, and a glittering silver ring with auburn jewels set into it glint in the low light of the kitchen. “we’re 25 now, you know.”
bernard immediately starts laughing again at that, and it’s as tim takes out the ring and holds it out, with bernard sticking his hand out and trying not to shake with laughter too much that tim can’t put it on, that tim sees bernard’s laughter slowly morph into sobs. tears slide down his freckled cheeks as he looks down at the ring, and tim slides out of his chair and hugs bernard close to him so his friend- boyfriend- fiancé, can sob into his shoulder.
“i love you so much, bernard dowd. ever since i first looked into your young, mischievous eyes and decided that i could take on the world with you, i knew that i would love you forevermore,” tim whispers into bernard’s ear, his own tears having yet to slow down and clouding his vision.
“you will shut the fuck up right now tim, or else i’ll sell your organs,” bernard cries, overwhelmed as he clutches tim with desperate hands.
tim just laughs, throws his head back, and silently thanks his parents for having dragged him to those galas all those years ago.
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