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You hear the familiar beep ring twice as you hit the lock button on your car keys.
It doesn’t matter that you’re in the most secure place in the city. You always locked your car twice, just to be sure. Wayne Manor may be the most protected place in Gotham, but with your luck, something would end up happening to it.
You loved your car too much to let anything happen to her. You had bought it in high school after working two summers straight. She, and yes she your car was a girl, was on the verge of falling apart most days, but she was still your prized possession. You'd be damned if something happened to her.
You attempt to stuff the keys back in your purse but inevitably struggle with the zipper. There was something so beautiful yet so inefficient about a small shoulder bag that drew you in like a siren song. They were the perfect accessory to all your outfits, but they only fit the three dollars you had to your name. You sighed stuffing your keys further in the small purse when you gave the zipper one last tug and it finally gave in. The small shoulder bag looked like it was about to burst at the seams. It was holding your wallet, keys, epi pen, and lipstick.
Resigning to that being a later problem, you lift your arm awkwardly in the air. You give a little shimmy to shift the purse from the crook of your elbow back up to rest on your shoulders.
On the roof of your car there are two take-out coffee cups that were supposed to be drunk in a new café that just had its grand opening downtown. The café had warm yellow lighting, comfortable seats, and a good selection of pastries. It was going to be a cute date that you had been looking forward to all week. Tim too sounded excited but he sounded far away when you brought it up to him. You knew he had a lot on his plate and let it go.
You had ordered and sat down at the circular table while scrolling mindlessly on your phone. After approximately ten minutes when you agreed to meet, you realized that your boyfriend had lost track of time.
Tim was never late, he was always a minimum of two minutes early or right on time. You had called him twice with no answer. Checking his location, you saw that he was still at the manor. You could practically envision his phone face down at the desk.
With a heavy sigh, you asked the barista with an embarrassed smile if you could take the coffees to go. While she repoured the drinks, you managed to buy the last chocolate croissant and cinnamon roll that they had left on the display. Tim probably hadn't eaten yet today if your assumption was correct. She handed the pastries to you in a cute branded paper bag with a drink carrier and sent you on your way.
Tim had practically been living out of the batcave for the last week. He was driving himself crazy after Mr. Freeze escaped without a trace from their last encounter. Now, this wasn’t the first time he’d lost track of time, but it was the first time he hadn’t informed you of it. The few instances when he was late are if he was coming to your apartment after patrols or if he was going to call you before you fell asleep. And on the rare case that he was running behind, he always sent you a text or gave you a call.
On the entire drive over from the traffic of downtown, over the bridge, and pulling into the manor driveway, you had heard absolutely nothing from him.
Once upon a time in the early stages of your relationship with Red Robin this would’ve been a huge full-on fight. He hadn’t filled you in about his double life until about ten months in, which resulted in him disappearing for hours on accident without a valid explanation. He'd just turn up in the middle of the night saying that he fell asleep or he got caught up late at work.
However, after almost three years together, you learned to accept that Tim Drake was a workaholic. Sometimes, he just needs someone to pull him out the hole he dug himself.
There used to be insecurity laced in the times he wouldn’t call or disappear. You were worried he had found someone else or lost interest. This actually led to the biggest fight you’ two ever had. There was slamming of doors and a screaming match that echoed around your kitchen island. It was the night he had told you he was Red Robin. He told you he would be over at ten, then pushed it to eleven, then one, and next thing you knew it was 4:12 am and Tim Drake knocked on your door.
Furious didn’t even cover half of it. It wasn’t until about ten minutes of ranting and threatening to leave him that he explained it all to you. His vigilantism, the patrols, the wounds, the double life, all of it.
He thought that would be the end of it, but you were even more upset. You didn’t even believe him at first. Then he took off the sweatshirt he had stumbled through the door in, and you saw the proof scattered through his chest. There were a number of tiny scars and bruises, but there was one that had recently been sewn together.
Anger bled into worry and your voice raised higher. He had lied to you about essentially everything that had to do with his life. You were even more upset that he lied to you about being hurt too. Seeing him hurt almost tore you in half. You obviously understood the reason on why he lied. But, when it’s almost 4:30 in the morning and your boyfriend had showed up at your door after waiting 6 hours, you wanted to kill him.
You almost sent him packing that night, but you saw a flicker of guilt in his eyes. The small glance he spared at the cracking paint job on your wall released the tension in your shoulders. In that moment you saw a fragment of the world Timothy Drake carried on his shoulders. A burden he had carried for so long, he didn’t know who he was without it.
That’s when you made the decision to let him stay. To not let him carry it alone; and slowly, he shifted some of the weight to you. It took a couple months, but he began to let you in. He started to share the little things from patrols or missions. What bothered him about a case or how he beat himself up when a plan didn’t work out exactly how he needed it to. It was then that you truly saw Tim Drake. The boy who chose to be Robin, the teenager who turned into Red Robin, but most importantly, the man who was and always will be the love of your life.
So now that Tim had gone ghost mode again, you almost drowned in worry. He hadn’t done this in a couple of months. After a few cases of trial and error, he learned not to lose himself in his work. He started to take breaks and actually rest, he made sure to take care of himself.
When he came to you the night they lost Freeze, your heart sunk. You knew what this meant. You knew how quick losing Freeze went to his head, and that’s why you planned the date.
Bruce had actually messaged you to get him out of the house, but he didn’t need to know that part.
There had only been a handful of times you’d actually had to come to the manor to pull him out of his head. He wouldn’t listen to anyone that told him to get up from the computer, not Bruce, not Dick, not even Alfred. He'd listen to you, but not without a fight. You almost always ended up striking a deal with him. He got one more hour with you sitting next to him, and then you’d step away.
That’s how you find yourself on the driveway of the manor. With the pastel pink of the sunset settling into a deep purple at the approach of dusk. Tim would probably have to leave for patrol in a bit, but you’d have about an hour or two with him. Hopefully, not attached at the batcomputer.
You pick up bag of pastries from the roof of your car along with the drink carrier that held your Caramel Macchiato and Tim’s double shot Americano. He always has a triple shot, but someone’s got to limit his caffeine intake, and it won’t be him.
Your steps are uneven on the gravel of the driveway leading up to the manor. In the handful of times you had come to visit, you never quite got used to the grandeur of it.
The beauty of the historic architecture didn’t belong in Gotham. The intricately carved windowsills, the stone pattern lining the walls, the dark oak doors, none of them fit in this city. If someone had told you that it had been torn from Old England and dropped here in the middle of this horror story, you would believe them. It was too beautiful to belong to Gotham. The manor in all its glory towered over you while you approached. Your foot lands on the first marble step when the front door opens. Alfred is standing at the grand entrance with one hand behind his back and another bent in a perfect ninety degree angle over his abdomen.
“Hello Miss,” he greets you with a smile and a short bow of his head while you climb up the remaining steps. “How are you this evening?”
“Hi Alfred,” Your eyes closed as you offer him a wide smile. You had decided earl on into dating that Alfred was your favorite person in this family. He was the only one in this house you could have a semi-normal conversation with. “I’m doing good, how’re you?”
“Quite alright Miss,” He offers a curt smile. “Am I correct in assuming you are here to see Master Timothy?”
“Yes,” you let out an exasperated breath before raising an eyebrow before continuing. “Am I correct in assuming he’s still in the cave?”
“Yes Ma’am.”
You take another deep breath, not entirely surprised. You had a hunch he was still in the cave, it’s a better explanation than him just blowing you off. He’s probably still in the Red Robin uniform too if you had to guess.
“Would you be able to escort me down to see him?”
“Of course.” Alfred offers you one more smile before turning around.
In another life this would’ve been insane to you. Hell, even three years ago this would’ve been crazy. You couldn’t really make up a world where you were dating one of Batman’s proteges and bringing him snacks to their underground base, but here you are.
You follow Alfred through the vast hallways that made you feel like you were on a guided tour of a museum. The walls were filled with artwork you could study for hours. Every hallway mirrored each other, but had differing characteristics at the same time. There was a uniqueness that lingered in each item of decor and each corner table. Some walls had the most beautiful paintings you’d ever seen, and some were scattered with photographs of the family.
Even after a few trips, you hadn’t properly learned your way around the manor. There were only three places you could get to without someone’s help: Tim’s old bedroom, the bathroom next to the dining room, and this hallway.
You made sure to memorize the steps of how to get to this hallway because it has your favorite photo of all time.
It’s a photo of Tim when he got honor roll in eight grade. He was about thirteen in this picture, and it was taken shortly after he had started training with Bruce. He’s holding the diploma stiff in a way that indicates he was taking this picture against his will. He was mid-eye roll when the photo was taken, and Bruce is stood stoically behind him with a hand on his shoulder. It made you laugh every time you saw it. There's a small level of innocence that sits on his face. A time from before he burdened himself with the horrors of the real world. A time where he was just Timothy Drake, and that was enough.
Much to Tim’s dismay there’s a copy of it that sits in your favorites folder on your phone. When he pisses you off instead of doing the mature thing and telling him you’re upset, you send him the photo.
After many more hallways, you finally made it to the elevator in the study. You could never go down by yourself because you didn’t have clearance to get down to the cave. Tim told you one day that Bruce had set up a retina scanner to go all the way down a couple of years ago. Bruce had offered to give you access so you could come down by yourself, but you hastily declined. You hated elevators. If they gave you access to come down by yourself, you wouldn’t have an elevator buddy on these rare occasions that you arrived without Tim. Going down this death trap alone was your worst nightmare.
It amazed Tim how much you truly hated the elevator. Dating Red Robin was no walk in the park. Somehow, there had been criminals that found out about you. You had been held at gunpoint, which wasn’t uncommon for Gotham, you had been held for ransom, you’d actually been threatened, yet, the elevator in Wayne Manor was where you drew the line.
You could see your anxious reflection in the metal doors. Without fail, you held your breath the entire way down, every single time you got inside of it. The claustrophobia ate at your chest, making you bite back the urge to claw your way out. Usually, you would travel down the elevator with Tim, and he’d distract you the whole time. He’d squeeze your hand, give you a kiss, or talk your ear off over a case he’d been trying to crack. Now all you had was the rocking back and forth of your body and Alfred stood dutifully at your side.
When the elevator stops and the longest two minutes of your life are finally over, you almost fly out the elevator doors. You assumed that the bat cave would be empty, and you assumed wrong.
Dick and Bruce were stood near the batmobile when the doors to elevator slid open. They both made direct eye contact with you, and you wished the ground of the cave to swallow you whole. They never laughed at you for it, but you were embarrassed just how terrified of elevators you were. Bruce had actually tried explaining the mechanics and how even if the elevator did get stuck you wouldn’t fall to your death. It didn’t help at all, if anything, it made it worse. You didn’t want to understand it. You wanted to disassociate with the experience entirely, but he was your boyfriend’s dad. You couldn’t exactly wave him off when he was talking to you.
After the brief moment of shame, they shift their gaze to the contents in your hand. The corner of Bruce’s mouth twitched, and his gaze softened when he looked back at you. That was the closest thing to a smile you had ever gotten from him. You gave him an awkward smile in return. You never did know how to talk to him, he was almost as awkward as you.
However, that was not the case for Dick. He had a teasing smile on his face and looked back at your boyfriend. The boyfriend that hadn’t even turned to see who came out of the elevator. His eyes were practically drilling into the screen.
“Oooooo someone’s in trouble.” Dick playfully announced
You let out a small laugh while they walked past you toward the elevator, giving you and Tim some privacy.
That’s what finally inspired Tim to look around. He would tune out his brother every day of the week, but he knew that sound better than his reflection. The sound that he would get drunk off every night if he could. The laugh he craved when he said something so unfunny it actually made you laugh at how awful the joke was. His reflexes recognized you before he did, and he snapped his head so fast he cracked his neck. He thought his ears were playing tricks on him after hours staring at this screen, but they weren’t. You were walking down the runway rivaling a walk that models trained years for. He froze for a second while taking you in.
Watching you walk toward him made him nostalgic for the future he hadn’t gotten yet. He had never really thought about marriage or a grand wedding, but anytime you walked toward him he thought of what that day would look like. What it would look like the day you walked down the aisle as his bride. The day you two vowed to spend the rest of your lives together.
He realized early on in you two dating that you were it for him. There was no one else he would rather wake up to. No one he would rather fight with. No one else he would want to make fall apart under him. He just wanted you. He wanted every single part of you. The parts when your feet were too cold and kicked him in the middle of the night. The part that scratched his back after a long day. The part that gasped his name when he hit the right spot. And most importantly, the part that brought him snacks and coffee when he lost himself in his work.
Unfortunately, when he recovered from his awe, he realized why you had coffee and pastries in your hands.
The date.
He felt the color drain from his face instantly. Picking up his phone that was face down on the desk, he saw the time along with the two missed calls he had from you.
Fuck.
He immediately stood up from the swivel chair and almost tripped over himself when he met you halfway.
And you were right, he was still in his Red Robin suit.
When he reached you, his hands grazed up and down your arms before resting on your elbows. His forehead dropped onto yours and his eyes were closed as he apologized.
“I’m so, so, so, so, sorry.” His eyes were squeezed shut while he begged for forgiveness. “The last time I checked the clock it was four. I told myself I’d finish what I was doing and go get ready, but I kept finding more outlie-”
You cut him off with a kiss. A short little peck. He continues mumbling an apology against your lips while his arms wrap around you. You tried to cut off his rambling again, but he kept apologizing. That made you pull back and throw your head back with a small laugh. He opens his eyes to finally look at you and there’s a small smile creeping on his face. His eyes are full of a quiet Sunday morning type of love you got used to waking up too.
“You’re not mad?” His voice is hesitant while you look up at him.
“No, Tim, I’m not.”
“Are you sure?” He asks with guilt seeping into his voice.
“Yes,” you tell him as earnestly as you can. “I’m worried about you.”
He scoffs but there’s no heat behind it. “I’m fine.”
He always did this. Always tried to wave off any form of help.
“You say that, but I checked your location and you got back from patrols at 5 this morning. And I’m positive that you went straight to the computer when you got back. Right?” You level him a look that makes his ears turn the color of his suit. “Tim," you sigh his name like a plea, "You haven’t even changed out of your uniform.”
He looks around, confirming what you both know. That you’re alone in the cave. You see him physically relax when he exhales and his shoulders slump.
“I just-" He stops for a moment trying to find the words.
"I’m trying, ya know?” His hand briefly leaves the small of your back to pass through his hair. “I’ve been racking my brain, but nothing’s adding up. There’s no pattern, no coincidences.” His hand returns to your back, pulling you in. His forehead drops to your shoulder, before whispering so quietly you almost miss it.
“I don’t want to let them down.”
You can’t help the way your heart breaks when he confesses what’s really been eating at him. You knew that’s what it was. You’ve been with him too long to not know, but that doesn’t make it easier to hear. He always struggled with feeling like he belonged. Since he chose all of this, he never felt chosen. Never felt worthy. Which is why you’d give up everything to show up for him when no one else did. You had to be there to remind him that you chose him. That you would continue to choose him in this life, and every life after. With any name he would go by, with whatever he looked like, you would find the soul you knew like home and choose him. Every single time.
You drop the bag of pastries on the ground, and your fingers find themselves entangled in his unfairly shiny hair. Brushing through the silky strands, he held onto you like some people hold onto hope. You were the only thing he ever needed. He breathes in the perfume he bought you for your birthday last year and it soothes something in him. The familiar scent of you makes it easier to get through the day. It turns all the mountains in front of him into hills.
After clinging onto you for a couple of minutes, he trusts himself to stand up and looks into your eyes, and you hear it.
Everything he doesn’t say. Everything he doesn’t want to admit.
You don’t bring it up, letting it simmer in the silence between both of you. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, you won’t force it. You’ll offer him the distraction of pastries and caffeine. You’ll turn your head and give him some peace, but not before you place a palm on his cheek and reassure him.
“You could never let anyone down, Tim.”
He huffs but leans into your hand anyway. There's a smile that's threatening to make an appearance on his face.
“You always say that” he grumbles.
“Because it’s true.” You say without missing a beat. “You’ve done too much for this family, for this city, for me, to be a letdown.”
He breathes in shakily when he internalizes your words. Everything he ever wanted- no, needed to hear spilling from your lips. You can see it in the way he straightens slightly that he’s locking up. He doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, and you let the moment pass. There will be time for this later, when he’s ready to confront it. When you’re not in the batcave and he’s not in his suit.
You straighten back up and hold the coffee in front of him with a guilty purse of your lips.
“I got you a double shot Americano”
He groans and throws his head back, before bending down to pick up the bag of pastries and the drinks from your hand. He was always grateful when you brought him coffee, but you always lowered the dosage of caffeine. You shove at his shoulder with a laugh.
“Don’t be like that, I know for a fact you’ve already had a monster today. You won’t sleep later if you have a triple shot.”
“I have to patrol tonight. I’m not supposed to sleep.” He informs you over his shoulder, with that Tim Drake smile you would kill for.
You make it to the computer, and he places the coffee and pastries on the desk. He takes you off guard by turning back to you, trapping you in his arms. This time you don’t have a million things in your hands, so you can hold onto him just as tightly.
“Thank you for this, really. You didn’t have to.” His voice comes out muffled against your neck.
"Yes, I did."
Your arms lock around his neck and you breath him in. It was almost too easy to be around Tim, he made it so easy to melt into him. Every time he pulled away, and he had to leave for a mission or patrols, your heart climbed to your throat. You couldn’t swallow it back down until he was in front of you again. The terror that something would happen to him, the fear of how hurt he was, or the possibility of him not coming back infected you like a virus.
You learned to cherish these small moments with him, where the world fell away and it was just you and him suspended in time.
He lifts his head and doesn’t hesitate to lean in. You let yourself fall into him, allowing him to take control. He needed this. His lips slide against yours in that tauntingly slow way that leaves you begging for more. He teases you a bit more before biting your bottom lip, holding it hostage between his teeth. You let out a small gasp and his tongue finds its way into your mouth. That was one thing that surprised you about him when you first started dating, Tim Drake was a biter. He wanted to carve the memory of how you tasted in his mind forever. He’s kissing you with so much desperation, you couldn’t help the small moan that you let out.
He smiles against your lips and your face burns at the sound. He pulls back and takes in your disheveled state. The mortification is plain on your face with the embarrassed frown you give him. There was something so humbling about making a noise in public that he seemed to thrive off of. He huffs out a laugh with a small smile and gives you one more kiss.
This one was similar to the one you gave him earlier when you tried to shut him up. It was small and innocent just for the two of you. A thank you of sorts.
“I got you a cinnamon roll from the café.” You whisper against his lips when he pulls back briefly.
His eyes light up and he’s got a childish, toothy-grin plastered across his face. His arms are still around you, but he leans over the bag to confirm the contents of it. You didn’t think it possible, but his smile somehow managed to get even wider.
He gets so excited with the cinnamon roll that he shifts his hands from holding you against him to your waist. In a split second your feet went from being on the floor to being spun around in the air. Your hands go to his shoulders and you laugh with him. He does this sometimes when he gets really happy. He did it once a little over a year ago when he took you the beach for your two year anniversary. You told him that you enjoyed it because it made you feel like the princesses you grew up watching on TV. After that, he started doing it more consistently in these small precious moments between you both.
“I love you so much.” He tells you breathlessly when he sets you back on the floor.
You hum while turning back to your coffee. “I love you more.”
“Ah ah- that’s not true.” He waves his finger in the air while he pulls the chair over and falls in it.
You raise your eyebrows at him with a hand on your hip, “I’m not taking that from the guy who forgot to show up to our date.”
He had just grabbed his coffee and held it to his lips. He pauses mid-sip, playfully pointing at you while swallowing with narrowed eyes.
“You said you weren’t mad.” He licks his lips after finishing his sentence and you’re distracted by it momentarily. You thought you looked away quick enough, but there's a wicked grin that says he caught you red handed.
You turn back to the desk in a pathetic attempt to hide the deep flush on your face.
“I’m not mad,” you pause giving him a false sense of hope. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to forget it anytime soon.”
You tear the bag in half to use it as a makeshift plate. You avoid eye contact just enough to make him nervous before whipping around to face him. It’s your turn to playfully point at him accusingly.
“You owe me a date Timothy Drake.”
His hands shoot up, surrendering. “Anything you want gorgeous. You name it, you get it.”
“Nope!” You pop the p a little to loudly and scare some of the bats on the roof. “You don’t get an easy out with this one. You have to plan it aaaand surprise me.”
Your nose is in the air while you take your seat on his lap. One of his arms snakes around your waist and his chin rests on your shoulder.
“Okay..." He drops a brief kiss to your shoulders. "How does Saturday sound, my dove?” You realize he’s trying to buy himself some time to plan. Feeling merciful, you give it to him.
“Sounds good to me.”
You take a bite form your chocolate croissant and fall into a comfortable silence with him. These were your favorite moments with him: sitting together and coexisting, letting life pass you by. Nothing would bother you here while you were sat in his arms. No clown terrorizing Gotham, no grieving cryogenist, no gang leaders. It was just you and him.
You lean your head back against the uneven cushion of the head rest and he leans against you. The sound of his heartbeat against your back calms you in a way you never thought possible. He's here, he's here and he's alive. That was enough for now.
You don’t know when it happens but eventually you both drift into a small power nap. His hands were around your waist and yours were rested over his. His breathing evened out in your hair getting lost in the smell of home. You drifted off into a nap shortly after in his arms, where for once, you felt safe.
Bruce and Dick came back down an hour later to get Tim for patrol. They found you both asleep with crumbs of half eaten pastries and lukewarm coffees.
“Should we wake him?” Dick whispered.
“No, let them sleep.” Bruce answered.
Because for once, Tim Drake let himself rest.
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