I'm giving everyone permission to use my prompts.
But please tag and credit me, I always want to read whatever you make!
Please no unsolicited constructive criticism! I am writing as a hobby, this is just for fun and getting those kinds of comments is incredibly discouraging.
unfortunately i dont think its queerbaiting if the creator is just so terminally heterosexual that they never remotely considered the same gender relationship their show is centered around could be read as romantic. it is deeply painful however.
Holy ghosts this was a prompt where I couldn’t find anything to do with. Becauseeee, I don’t want to spend too much time on drawing these prompts. But thanks to all the friends that helped me to figure stuff out :D <3
“Anyone seen Danny?” asked Maddie, glancing around as she stood in front of the table. “Thought he was going to help with the garage sale.”
“That little shit went on a run again,” hissed Jack, his voice low, narrowing his eyes.
“Jack!” yelled Maddie between closed teeth, crossing her arms against her chest and pointed a finger at him. “Don’t talk like that about our son. He has been helping with setting up the garage sale like a good boy, until that ghost scum of a Phantom showed up.”
“You’re right, Mads.” His shoulders slumped. “At least I sucked that ghost into the Fenton Thermos.”
“Yes, that’s all right,” she said and exhaled heavily, turning around to look at the table that was cluttered with FentonWorks devices. “I suppose we can deal with that later.”
“Now,” began Jack, “let’s sell some anti-ghost stuff to the townspeople so they can begin to protect themselves.”
“Yes,” said Maddie. “We should put up a sign as well. Don’t you think?”
I love browsing cover-up tattoo stuff when every once in a while there's someone asking "how do I cover up this unspeakably idiotic thing" and people are like "please do not cover that up, that's fucking amazing." You just have "shrimps is bugs" written on your leg now. That's your legacy.
Danny: *barges into Tim's office, obviously furious* Okay I'm done with you ignoring me and treating me like I'm a charity case. I'm supposed to be your partner, not your pretty arm candy you only talk to when you flaunt to your buisness partners. I want a divorce.
Tim: *blinks in surprise before leaning into his phone* Uh Tam...when did I get married? And what did I do to ruin it?
Danny: *looking around* Oh my Ancients I'm in the wrong office! I am so sorry! *starts to leave only to back track* By the way your security kinda sucks. I stormed in here, obviously angry, and not once did anyone try to stop me or search me for weapons. I work for a security and bodyguard buisness, I'll leave my card with your assistant if you want to hire more competent gaurds. Sorry again for barging in like that! *leaves, politely shutting the door*
Tim: Tam I need that buisness card, and I need to know everything about that man!
Danny wasn't sure what to think when he received a care package--what the fuck?--filled with referrals of divorce lawyers, some pamphlets that Danny had never heard of.
And all from Tim Drake, the CEO of Wayne Enterprise. The one he barged into like yesterday.
"Why is a billionaire trying to help me break up with my husband?!" Danny said to no one, still in disbelief.
This was his fault, Danny knew. If he didn't put a foot in his mouth...why did he even blab about his personal life in front of his partner's boss? That just sounded pathetic. Hello, this is Danny about to get divorce. Nobody liked to hear about divorced guys. Yet he just slapped his card like he hadn't embarrassed himself.
"I probably should write a letter 'Thank you but please don't look into my possible divorce'," Danny muttered.
...
"Tim, what's this I hear about you going after a married man?" Steph's voice boomed at the Batcave, to Tim's horror, and he watched as his siblings shot him looks.
"You're falling in love with a married man?" Dick sounded almost disappointed at him.
"Damn. I didn't know you're a homewrecker," Jason said.
"He's getting a divorce," Tim insisted.
"Tsk."
Tim stood there, gaping at the court order. He's being sued for alienation of affection (otherwise known Homewrecker" lawsuit)
Jason whistled, peering over his shoulder. "Damn. Replacement."
Meanwhile, Tim was still spluttering. Utterly speechless. "B-b-but? How? Who still files this thing? I don't think it's even legal in this state."
(It isn't, Tim had checked)
Jason was too delighted. "And it says here, Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, had knowingly and maliciously--"
"Oh my god, Jason--"
"--In a hostile workplace. The defendant engaged in conduct that intentionally interfered with the marital relationship…|
Tim buried his face in his hand.
"--Plaintiff suffered loss of consortium, affection, and companionship."
"ITS NOT EVEN LEGAL IN NEW JERSEY!"
"One day, when you two have children, can I tell them this is your meet-cute?" Jason perked up. "You got sued by one of your employees--"
Tim didn't even want to think of the ramifications of this with the tabloids and how it would affect the company. His reputation in ruins.
"I can't believe I am being sued. And by this!"
"How pathetic," Damian sneered. "I can't believe you have brought dishonor on our family. Father will be very disappointed."
"Homewrecker," Jason sang along. And Tim wanted to strangle him that he was not. a. homewrecker. This was widely a gross misinterpretation of events!
"For the last time, Danny's getting a divorce!"
"I mean, you met Danny, who was in a vulnerable emotional state--"
Tim would hardly call their first meeting "vulnerable". "Nothing actually happened between us!" he defended himself
"You better countersue for defamation, Drake," Damian narrowed his eyes. "I will not allow our family reputation to be reduced to this 'romantic misconduct'." He sneered at the end
"I'm calling my lawyers," was all Tim could mutter
Tim Drake Wayne didn’t become the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar conglomerate by letting people walk over him. Especially not in the courtroom. While he might be a disaster in his personal life (as evidenced by the "Care Package for Divorce" he’d sent Danny), This whole mess was unfolding on his home turf.
The conference room at Wayne Enterprises was freezing. Tim sat at the head of the table, dark circles under his eyes and a third espresso in his hand. Across from him sat his legal team, a group of people so shark-like they practically bled salt water.
"Let’s review," Tim said, his voice flat. "An employee-" he puts a picture down of the man. "-who is this man's-" followed by a picture of Danny, "-soon to be ex husband, is suing me for 'alienation of affection' in a state where that hasn't been a valid cause of action since the mid-20th century. He’s filed it publicly, leaked it to the Gotham Gazette, and the headline currently reads: CEO OR HOMEWRECKER?"
"Technically, Mr. Drake," his lead counsel, Mr. Harrow, noted, "the lawsuit is frivolous. It will be thrown out by a judge before the week is over."
"Being thrown out isn't enough," Tim snapped, the exhaustion of the week's jeering and pestering from his so called siblings finally bubbling over. "He’s smeared my name. He’s implied I used my position as CEO to coerce a marital breakdown. It’s affecting the stock, and most importantly... it's a lie."
He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "We aren't just defending. I want a counter-sue. Defamation, libel, and intentional infliction of emotional distress. He knew the 'alienation' claim was legal fiction, he filed it specifically to damage my reputation." Damian had gone out of his way to mention all this to Tim in his own bratty way. And Tim can't even be upset, cause he can clearly tell it's coming from some place of actual concern. Even if neither of them will ever admit that out loud.
After that comes the Confrontation.
The legal "hit" was delivered two days later. Tim wouldn't go through this process in the shadows. Instead he had the papers served to Danny's so called husband right in the middle of a high-end restaurant where the man was ironically celebrating his "upcoming settlement" with a friend.
The fallout was immediate. Tim’s lawyers didn't only bring the facts, they brought a digital trail that would make this man regret ever starting this crap in the first place.
Exhibit A: Proof that the marriage was already in shambles long before Danny stepped foot in Tim’s office.
Exhibit B: Text logs of the husband bragging about "taking the billionaire for every cent" using a "dead law."
Exhibit C: The business card Danny left which was proof that the interaction was a professional solicitation for security services, not a clandestine tryst.
And then the Settlement… or well, the lack thereof.
A week later, the husband was dragged into a deposition. He looked significantly less smug now that he was facing a defamation suit that could bankrupt him for the next three lifetimes.
"I... I thought it was true," the husband stuttered, sweating under the fluorescent lights. "He barged into the office! He said he wanted a divorce right there!"
"In the wrong office," Mr. Harrow reminded him coolly. "To a man he had never met. And your response was to tell the tabloids that Mr. Drake had been 'pursuing' your husband for months. That is a demonstrably false statement of fact."
Tim watched from behind the one-way glass in the observation room. His phone buzzed. It was a text from an unknown number.
Danny: I heard about the countersuit… I am so, so sorry for the mess. I didn't think he'd actually try to sue you.
Tim’s thumbs hovered over the screen. He should be professional. Overstepping is what got him into this circus in the first place… but, it's Danny.
Tim: It’s fine. I'm paying my lawyers for a reason, and this is just another Tuesday for them. But to be honest? it's usually until after the first date before I get sued for someone's marriage ending.
Is that too forward? that's probably too forward, Tim can feel his ass getting blocked.
Danny: Is that an invitation? Because I think I owe you a dinner. Or at least a very good bodyguard for free for a while. Ancients know you could use one what with all those damn paparazzi vultures circling you because of all this.
Tim felt a rare, genuine smile tug at his lips. He turned back to the glass, watching the husband’s legal team practically beg Mr. Harrow for a settlement that involved a public retraction and a permanent NDA.
"Retraction first," Tim muttered to himself. "Then date."
He might have lost his reputation for a week, but the turn around on this particular disaster was starting to look very promising.
the natural lifespan of a fandom is unlimited. when well tended a fandom can be functionally immortal. and yet everywhere you look you see newly bred fandoms withering and dying when they’re barely a year old. barely even six months old. fans are looking at their six month old fandoms and saying i think it’s on its last legs, should i euthanise it? when with the proper care that fandom could outlive them for decades. it’s sad. sad state of affairs we’re in.
Many of the ancient fandoms had a long, long time to grow. A new episode came out once a week, if that, and people had that time to talk about it with one another, to speculate, to create art. Some of the very ancient fandoms were serialized written stories in magazines or journals, and a new chapter came out twice a month if you were lucky.
Many new potential fandoms are based on stories that come out so fast no one has the time to digest them, or that are too complete and leave no room for speculation, or - worst of all - are so bland that they're nudged out by the Next New Thing before the community has time to pry into the cracks and insert flavor.
i bring a "making barbara batgirl again and curing her paraplegia is ableist and misogynistic and a disrespect to kim yale's work & legacy" vibe to the dc fandom that dc editors don't really like ✌🏽
I’ve been imagining this story prompt for a week now and am finally writing it down
Danny and Tim are in the same class (college or high school idc) and Tim has a raging fever from some infection he got tumbling around Gotham rooftops and alleys. It’s a filthy city, infections are gonna happen (does he have a spleen? dealers choice).
Danny, Tim, and another classmate are put on a team project for the duration of the class, and the other notices Tim is flushed and sweaty and calls him out for it like “Hey dude I think you’re super sick you should go to the nurse” and puts a hand against Tim’s forehead to test for fever. Tim’s too exhausted to protest. He’s legit almost passing out but good at hiding it.
“Wow he’s really burning up. Danny, feel this.”
“Nah I can never tell,” Danny says. “I run cold so checking temp isn’t something I’m good at.”
“Well maybe that’ll help him wake up a little,” and the other classmate grabs Danny’s hand and puts it against Tim’s cheek.
Tim sighs and presses his face into Danny’s hand like a cat. Danny blushes. Other Classmate laughs and shoves Danny closer to Tim, who absolutely buries his face against Danny’s neck and drags him into a vice-grip-hug.
Danny is sputtering and blushing tomato red.
The teacher finally notices and walks over. Whole class is watching, laughing, whispering. Other Classmate explains to teacher that Tim is super feverish and teacher tells Danny to take Tim to the nurse.
Danny tries to move away but Tim holds on tighter and Danny eventually just sighs and lifts Tim into a princess carry (making more classmates giggle or whistle) before walking out of the room to go find the nurse’s office on campus.
Story extras -
Tim is given some basic meds and the nurse calls his emergency contact to pick him up with orders to visit their family doctor. (Bruce or Dick or anyone else, whichever fits your timeline.)
Tim becomes lucid enough to ask Danny why he’s so cold (he hasn’t let go yet) and Danny says, “Well not every meta can fly or throw laser beams. Some of us are just chilly. And it comes with the perk of not needing a winter jacket.” — in this story Danny isn’t shy about being meta, it’s a good cover to deflect any ghostliness, and being naturally cold is an easy answer alongside being something that’s obvious to anyone who touches him by accident. He plays it off nonchalantly. Maybe he goes on a rant about metahuman rights and how just because some people got a funky gene it doesn’t always result in superheroes and villains, some people are just accountants who hiccup bubbles.
Tim is severely touch starved and enjoys holding Danny for that reason. No other. Nope. That’s all, just the touch starvation. It’s really nice to have a prolonged hug and be held by a really cute cold boy.
Danny tries to pass Tim off to whoever comes to pick him up. It’s embarrassing trying to pry Tim off him and Danny can’t seem to make the blushing go away. “I’m so sorry. Wow this is so awkward. No this has never happened to me before and I’ve never talked to Tim before today we’re only in a couple classes together no we aren’t secretly dating why would you think that?! No he didn’t ’fall asleep in my arms’ he literally passed out from fever please get him to the hospital asap he needs an iv for fluids and meds!!”
Danny eventually gets back to class, which is nearly over. Other Classmate joined a different group and the teacher gives Danny a printout of the assignment that he can complete with Tim within the week. Great… now Danny has to see the cute clingy boy again. He can’t let Jazz know about today or she’ll read way too much into this.
The fluorescent lights of Gotham Academy were always a bit too bright, but today they seemed to be actively stabbing him in the eyeballs.
Tim wasn’t sure if it was the lights or if his brain was simply trying to shake itself loose from his skull.
A "minor" scratch from a rusty fire escape while chasing a lead in the Narrows had turned into a full-blown, limb-heavy, mind-fogging infection. Just his luck.
"Okay, so for the architectural analysis, we should probably start with the- Tim? You okay, man?"
The one talking was Marcus, their third for the semester-long urban planning project. Tim blinked slowly, trying to focus on the blueprint in front of him. His skin felt like it was being toasted from the inside out.
"Fine," Tim rasped. "Just... tired."
"You’re shivering," Danny Fenton noted from Tim’s other side. Danny was a quiet transfer student who always sat at the back and wore hoodies no matter the weather. He was looking at Tim with a strange, analytical tilt of his head.
Marcus reached out, pressing a palm firmly against Tim’s forehead. He recoiled instantly. "Holy hell! Dude, you’re burning up. You’re literally radiating heat. You need to go to the nurse like right now."
Tim tried to protest, but his tongue felt like a dry sponge. He just leaned back, his eyelids fluttering.
"Wow, you can feel it even when you're not touching skin," Marcus said, turning to Danny. "Danny, feel this. I think he’s like actually boiling."
Danny held up his hands, retreating slightly. "Nah, I’m the worst person to check. I run cold. Like, abnormally cold. I can never tell what a 'normal' people temp feels like."
"Well, in that case maybe you’ll act like an ice pack and wake him up," Marcus joked.
Before Danny could dodge, Marcus grabbed Danny’s wrist and guided his hand directly onto Tim’s flushed cheek.
The reaction was instantaneous. To Tim, Danny’s skin didn't feel like skin it felt like a slab of marble pulled from a freezer. It was the most wonderful thing he had ever felt.
Tim let out a long, shaky sigh of relief. He leaned into the touch, nuzzling his face into Danny’s palm like a desperate cat. You'd half expect him to go mrrr.
Danny froze, his face turning a shade of red that rivaled Tim’s fever. "Uh. Tim?"
Marcus barked an unexpected laugh. "Whoa, he really likes the AC!" He gave Danny a playful shove, pushing him closer to the slumped over Wayne.
That was all the permission Tim’s delirious brain needed. Taking the oppertunity to move forward, wrapping his arms around Danny’s waist and burying his face into the crook of Danny’s neck. He squeezed, locking his fingers behind Danny’s back in an impossible to escape vicegrip.
"So cold," Tim mumbled into Danny’s hoodie. "Don’t move. Stay."
The classroom went silent for a heartbeat before the snickering started. Danny sat there, arms hovering awkwardly in the air, his face now a vivid, glowing tomato red.
"Mr. Fenton? Mr. Drake?" The teacher, Mr. Harris, marched over, peering over his spectacles. "What exactly is the meaning of all... this?"
"Tim's got a fever, sir!" Marcus explained, grinning. "Danny’s apparently a human popsicle, so now he's helping Tim from melting."
Mr. Harris looked at Tim’s limp, clinging form and sighed. "Fenton, take him to the clinic. Now. Before he faints on the floor." The last thing the school needs is problems with Wayne.
Danny tried to pry Tim’s hands loose. "Alright, Tim, buddy, let’s go. Let go."
Tim only tightened his grip, a low, pathetic whine escaping his throat. He wasn't letting go of the cold.
With a look of pure, soul-crushing defeat, Danny sighed. He shifted his weight, hooked one arm under Tim’s knees and the other behind his back, and hoisted the billionaire’s son into a perfect princess carry.
The class erupted. Someone whistled; Marcus started filming on his phone. Danny ignored them all, marching out of the room with a burning face and a freezing chest, Tim’s head lolling contentedly against his shoulder.
In the nurse’s office, Tim had been looked over and given some medicine. He was currently lying on a cot, but he still hadn't released Danny’s hand. Danny was sitting on a plastic chair, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but there.
"Why are you... so cold?" Tim asked, his voice finally regaining some lucidity as the meds kicked in.
Danny leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "I'm a meta, Tim. Not all of them can fly or shoot laser beams. Some of us just have funky internal thermostats. It’s a genetic lottery, and I pulled the 'chilly' card."
Tim blinked, his thumb subconsciously stroking Danny’s knuckles. "Does it... hurt?"
"Nah," Danny said nonchalantly. "It’s a perk most of the time. I save a fortune on winter jackets, and it's great during heatwaves. People get so caught up in the 'super' part of metahumans, they forget most of us are just... weird. No one’s gonne be calling me any time soon to join the Justice League, you know? It's just a thing."
Tim didn't reply. He just closed his eyes, savoring the chill. It wasn't just the cold, though his fever-wracked brain wouldn't admit it. He was exhausted, feeling touch starved, and lived in a house of stoic vigilantes. This- this was nice.
The door swung open, and Dick Grayson practically tumbled in, looking frantic until he saw Tim.
"Oh, thank god," Dick exhaled. Then he paused, eyeing the way Tim was practically entwined with the black-haired boy in the chair. "Oh hello, and you are?"
Danny scrambled to stand, but Tim held fast, nearly dragging Danny onto the cot with him.
"I’m Danny! From class!" Danny squeaked, his blush returning with a vengeance. "I’m so sorry. This is... it’s not what it looks like!" Danny regretted that line the moment it came out of his mouth, couldn't look more guilty if he tried. Dick's gradually appearing shit eating grin confirmed that as well.
Despite that, Danny stammers on, "I’ve never even talked to him before today! We’re just on a project together! I don’t know why he’s doing this!"
"He's a popsicle," Tim mumbled sleepily. "My popsicle."
"He just has a fever." Danny protested to Dick, who clearly was enjoying watching this whole mess unfold. "He literally passed out from a 104-degree fever! Please, take him! He needs an IV and probably a tetanus shot, and I need to not be here anymore!"
It took five minutes and the Dick’s help to finally pry Tim’s fingers loose. Danny practically bolted for the door the second he was free.
"See you soon, Danny!" Dick called out mischievously.
"I am moving to Canada!" Danny yelled back over his shoulder.
He slipped back into the classroom just as the bell rang. Marcus was already packing up.
"Hey, Jack Frost," Marcus said, handing Danny a packet. "Teacher said cause you two are like top of the class anyway you and Drake can just do the assignment together and he reassigned me to a different group, so here's the stuff you're gonna need."
Danny looked at the packet, then at the empty seat where Tim had been shivering an hour ago. He could still feel the phantom weight of the boy against his neck.
He groaned, burying his face in his hands. He could not tell Jazz about this. She’d start all over again about his need for more friendly social contacts now that they are here in Gotham.
He just needed to finish the project. That was it. No more hugging. And no more princess carries.
.
.
.
Danny spent the entire bus ride to Bristol staring at the project packet like it was going to come alive and eat him.
He had played out approximately fortyseven different scenarios in his head, some of them were simply him being told he wasn't allowed anywhere near Tim.
Or perhaps Bruce Wayne had him arrested for stalking his son or maybe the man simply bought the Fenton Works laboratory just to evict his parents...
He wouldn't right? most articles are very positive about the guy, but Danny doesn't have any good experiences with rich people.
Only Sam is a rare exception, and she doesn't identify as a rich person in the slightest anyway, so she doesn't really count right?
"It's just schoolwork," Danny muttered, adjust the strap of his backpack. "Just schoolwork with a guy who used me as a icepack in front of thirty people. Totally normal."
When he finally reached the gates of Wayne Manor, his "doom thinking" went into overdrive. The place was massive. It screamed Old Money and We Have A Room Dedicated To Harassing Commoners.
"Yes?" a crisp, British voice asked.
"Uh, hi. I'm Danny Fenton? I’m here for the urban planning project. With Tim?"
The gates creaked open without a word.
Danny was expecting the owner of the british voice to be at the door. Instead, he was greeted there by the same grinning menace from the nurse's office.
"Kid Ice! You actually showed up!" Dick Grayson beamed, leaning against the heavy oak door. He looked like he’d been waiting there since Tuesday just to pounce. "I thought for sure you’d be halfway to the Yukon by now."
"The flights were too expensive," Danny deadpanned, trying to keep his heart rate under control. "Is Tim... awake? And feeling better? Preferably in a room with no older siblings that want to interrogate me?"
"He’s in the sunroom. Still a bit shaky, but A- I mean, the family doctor got the infection under control." Dick stepped aside, gesturing into the cavernous hallway. "Bruce is around somewhere. He’s very eager to meet the boy who carried his son across campus like a sickly maiden."
Danny felt his soul attempt to leave his body. "Please tell me you’re joking. "He'd really hoped the guy would be at his work, in some kind of meeting or whatever.
"I never joke about romance, Danny!" Dick chirped, leading him through the house. "By the way, I love the 'meta-thermostat' thing. Very cool. Literally, and you're so open about it too."
They reached the sunroom, a beautiful glass-walled paradise that was currently filled with various plants, the scent of expensive tea and antiseptic. Tim was buried under a mountain of blankets on a chaise lounge, looking significantly less like a tomato and more like a person again and cradling a steaming mug with tea.
Honestly, the whole picture was giving Danny a lot of cuteness agression.
"Danny," Tim said, his eyes brightening. He started to sit up, but a tall, looming shadow moved from the side of the room behind him, placing a heavy hand on Tim's shoulder, pushing him back and wrapping the blankets back. How the hell did Danny miss him being in the room as well?
Overall, It was like a picture perfect example of worried dad looking after his sick son, complete with very annoyed grumblings of "B, cut that out" from Tim.
Danny froze.
Bruce Wayne. The man was a mountain of tailored suit and intimidating silence.
And now here it comes, the list of behavioral demands, and then once Danny disapointed him he'd be kicked out and told under no uncertain terms he'll have a restraining order put-
"Mr. Fenton," Bruce said, his voice a deep baritone that vibrated in Danny’s bones, instantly cutting through his spiraling thoughts. "I’m told I owe you a debt of gratitude for looking after Timothy."
yep that's some more indignant grumbles from Tim.
"Oh, uh, no problem, sir," Danny squeaked. Okay now it'll happen, initial pleasanties out of the way and this was gonna be it.
This was the 'Sam's Parents' talk. He could feel it coming.
'You're a middle-class boy from a town that basically doesn't exist, stay away from my son.' Danny squared his shoulders.
"Look, Mr. Wayne, I know I’m just a transfer student and I run a little cold and the whole 'carrying him' thing was weird, but I have a high GPA and I’m very dedicated to this assignment and if you think I’m just here to-"
"I was going to ask if you wanted some hot cocoa," Bruce interrupted, blinking slowly. "Though Alfred suggested you might prefer something cold?"
Danny blinked. "Oh."
"And you're more than welcome," Bruce added, a ghost of a tired smile touching his lips. "It is good to see Tim make more friends."
"He didn't have a choice, B," Tim grumbled, though he was looking at Danny with a soft, hopeful expression. "I had him in a wrestling hold."
"A very effective one," Danny muttered, finally stepping into the room as Bruce and Dick shared a look.
"We’ll leave you two to it," Dick said, winking at Danny. "But Danny, if you need a job, Wayne Enterprises could always use someone to keep the server rooms cool. Think about it!" causing Tim to groan and hold his forehead.
As the door closed behind the two elder Waynes, Danny let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding since he stepped inside the manor. He slumped into a chair next to Tim’s lounge.
"Sorry about them," Tim said, sounding genuinely sheepish. "They’re... a lot."
"I thought your dad was going to banish me to the Ghost Zo- to a different school district," Danny corrected himself quickly.
"Bruce? Nah. He’s just a big dork once you get past the-" he waves his hand, "the everything else."
Tim shifted, the blankets sliding down somewhat again. He still looked a little pale. "So... the project?"
"Right. The project." Danny pulled out the blueprints, but he noticed Tim was shivering slightly.
Danny hesitated. He thought about the awkwardness. He thought about Marcus’s video. He thought about Jazz’s inevitable teasing. Then he looked at Tim, who was trying to hold a pencil with trembling fingers.
Does any of that really matter in the here and now? it's not like anyone is watching here right.
"You're still kinda sick, huh" Danny noted.
"A bit," Tim admitted. "The fever broke, so now it's just... y'know, a regular cold."
Danny hums before moving his chair closer until their shoulders touched. letting his naturally chilled arm rest against Tim’s side. "Don't get used to it. I'm a project partner, not an icepack."
Tim leaned into the contact immediately, his shivering stopping as he found that perfect, steady baseline temperature Danny provided. He let out a content hum, the same one that had embarrassed Danny so much in class.
"The best project partner ever," Tim whispered, finally focusing on the blueprints.
Danny felt his face heating up again. So much for no more hugging, he thought. At least there aren't any cameras this time.
quite a bit below them, down in the batcave, Dick Grayson hovered his finger over the 'Record' button on the camera feed.
"Don't you dare," Bruce’s voice came from somwhere near the batmobile.
"Oh c'mon, This will be great for later when they get married!" Dick pleaded.
The comment only getting him the patented sound of disaproval from the big bat.
Dick holds his hands up and steps away from the computer but when he sneakily checks his phone he sees that Babs already sent him a thumbs up emoji. so he figures she's got it covered.
It's hard seeing Damian be completely aware that people around him dislike him. "I just assume everyone hates me" is such a heartbreaking thing to say
This poor kid trying his damn hardest to turn his life around despite knowing people don't have fate in him, understanding Prime and trying to help... Damian Wayne the world doesn't deserve you
one time at a funeral i panicked and said the first drink i could think of and the bartender made me the pina colada With all the fixings all the trims all the bells and whistles i didnt even ask imagine youre at a funeral and the person besides you is drinking a pina colada with whip cream as tall as the drink with a cherry and an umbrella, thats what happened to me
