#tim drake walks past Cloud and gets so distracted by him that he walks right into a wall

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny is on the run from Batman and is looking for a safe place to go, and travels dimensions until he lands in yet another new world.

Hoping not to get noticed by anymore bad guys he stays invisible as he explores this new world...that is until a blond guy with wierd hair and a large sword casts freaking fireball on him and startles him back into the visable spectrum.

After a scuffle in which Phantom discovered he couldn't phase through the blond guy and got thrown to the ground the blond guy suddenly stopped, "You're a kid."

"Please don't adopt me. I got like two other creepy rich dudes trying and they're not gonna succeed either."

The man just stared at him for a few moments before shething his sword into the wierd mess of harnesses on his back, "Thats fair. Are you hungry?"

Phantom was taken aback, "I-yeah? I guess."

The blond guy then started walking off, prompting the ghost to follow him. Blond guy lead them to a bar and restaurant called "Seventh Heaven" and had him sit down at a table while he went to chat with the pretty lady cleaning glasses behind the counter. She asked about Phantom, appearently not realizing he could hear her. Turns out blondie thinks he's some kind of byproduct of mad scientists and he's partially right. He didn't know who 'Shinra' was though.

They eventually gang up on him and force him to spill that he was on the run from wierd feds in two separate dimensions and two wierd billionaires, each from the two dimensions and they both want to adopt him. Danny doesn't wanna be adopted by them though.

The man, Cloud, offered to adopt him in stead. He would allow Phantom to come and go as he pleased so long as he showed up and allowed Cloud to mentor him and teach him how to fight properly. Phantom would be able to use Cloud, Tifa and thier kids as a cover if anyone asked.

Danny saw this as an absolute win.

Aka Cloud Strife says "Yeah, i'll lie to the feds for you"

[wordsfromthesol]

The One with the Protective Sister

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Batsis Summary:  You are Bruce’s daughter, and well…the title says it all. Warnings: Scars, violence Word Count: 1.5k

It was another one of those days. You definitely just wanted to forget your life for a moment, to do that you stalked down to the Batcave. At least you could be productive while forgetting the reality. Heading over to the computer you grabbed Tim by the shoulder and pulled him back.

“Up. Time for you to sleep.”

“But I need –”

“Nope, you don’t. I’ll monitor for a while. You upstairs now.”

Tim knew better than to argue with you and slunk upstairs.

“If I find you on that computer Timothy Jackson Drake!” You turned towards the computer and prop your feet on the desk, scanning the monitors.

A few hours passed and your youngest brother comes in from patrol.

“Sister, you are here. I figured I would find Drake glued to the monitors.”

“Well I made him take a break, plus I needed a distraction anyways.”

“Who hurt you? I want names.”

“Cute Dami. No one, it’s just work.”

“I can take over.”

“Thanks, I’m going to grab a quick workout and then I’ll be back. I think Timmy would have a heart attack if he came down and I didn’t have my eyes plastered to those screens.”

A few rounds against the heavy bag did you some good, well mentally anyways. You looked down and realized you had split your stitches. Fuck, Alfred is going to kill me. Now the challenge was getting passed your brother, hopefully Damian would still be glued to the computer. Rounding the corner, you realized your luck had run out. All four of your brothers stood around the computer hassling Damian for who knows what. Maybe there’s still hope. You quietly made your way to the staircase.

“Sister! Please inform these imbeciles.”

You kept your back to them as you tried to continue your journey upstairs, “Well I would love to Dami, but I have no idea what I’m informing them of.” You felt a hand grab your wrist. Shit. It was too late, Damian had spun you around to face them.

“They think – sister, why are you bleeding?”

Your mind went blank, how can I not think of a lie right now?

“Y/N, what the fuck happened?” Jason pulled you over to a chair and directed you to sit.

Alfred arrived just in time, Dick must have summoned him as soon as he noticed the blood. You glanced over at him, grateful he was there to help you avoid the question posed before you.

“Miss Y/N, have you gone and torn my handiwork?”

“Heh, yeah I guess I went a little hard on that vicious punching bag. Sorry, Al.”

“Hm, let’s see the damage, shall we?”

You carefully lifted your shirt, just enough to expose the reopened wound across your abdomen. Alfred got to work, as your brothers stared at you questioningly, that was until Tim broke the silence.

“That’s you, isn’t it Y/N/N?” He pointed to the masked figure he had pulled up on the screen. You nodded, not wanting to reveal more information than they needed to know. “This was surveillance pulled from the night the demon spawn over here went radio silent for nearly two hours. He never told us what happened.”

“Tt, I did not know what happened. So there was nothing to tell.”

“He didn’t know I was there.”

“Why were you Y/N? I thought you gave up field work after…” Dick’s words trailed off as his mind drifted to the painful memory.

Alfred put the final stitch in and turned to face the boys, “perhaps, Miss Y/N, it is time to reveal your truths.”

“Fine,” you dramatically threw your hands in the air causing you to wince at the fresh pain. “I followed Damian to the warehouse. I saw you all leave on patrol, teasing him the whole time. I know my brother, hell I know all of you way too well, I knew he would try to prove himself.” You glanced in Damian’s direction, “he has a hard time letting things go, especially if that something is questioning his skills.”

“Is that how you got that? Damian, why didn’t you tell us she was with you?” Dick’s tone was strong, but he was clearly concerned…for the both of you.

“He didn’t know, Dick. I was just checking on him, but then he tried to take down a drug den. Some thug got lucky and knocked him out cold, I had no choice but to interfere.”

“I told you his com was on,” Tim side-eyed his older brothers, “he was just unconscious.”

You could feel Alfred’s eyes drilling into your head, but just when you thought you were in the clear Jason noticed as well.

“Alright, Y/N/N, why is Alfred still looking at you with that concerned yet disappointed yet worried look that he’s perfected so?”

Looks like you weren’t getting out of this one. “That may not have been the only time I’ve…looked out for you guys.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dick mumbled through gritted teeth.

“God, Al, why’s it such a big deal?” You huffed out in a fury, “I just want to make sure you have back-up when you need it! It’s not like I’m out there every mission!” Now you could feel not only Alfred’s, but all of your brother’s eyes glaring at you. You tore off your workout shirt to reveal a menagerie of scars. “But,” you began softly, “I’ve always been there when it counts.” You chuckled to yourself and looked up at Tim while pointing to a bullet wound just under your ribcage. “This was from that time Two-Face tried to start a gang war in downtown. Some sniper had his eyes on Tim, he wasn’t too happy when he missed. He was even less happy when my grapple gun stole his rifle from him.”

“I didn’t…”

“That was the point, Timmy. None of you had known,” you glared in Alfred’s direction, “until now.”

“You’ve saved all of us?” You could hear the drop in his voice.

“Heh…at least once. Though, this one,” you pointed to your collarbone, “isn’t from helping any of you. Though it is a pain at airport security.” This time you knocked on the bone, “Metal. Joker took a chunk of it out. When I went after him, after…” you looked up at Jason with grief in your eyes.

Damian walked over and hugged you without a word. Stepping back from the embrace he pointed to the scar that wrapped around your entire body, just visible under the sports bra.

“Sister, what is that one from?”

“That, my dear brother, is why dad would kill me if he knew I was still in the field.” You looked over at Dick, it was a painful memory for the both of you. “You see, before you four, dad began training me. Though Dick joined me only a few months afterwards, I guess he figured we could have each other’s backs. He wasn’t wrong, I may have this scar but I’m alive because of Dick.”

Jason, Tim, and Damian looked over to their eldest brother in shock. How had they never known this story. Damian soon grew impatient at the silence and nudged you to continue the story.

“Well, we were on a mission, of the Joker variety and I got caught. Dick and dad showed up…I’m not sure how long had passed.”

“36 hours” You heard the sting in his voice, something he clearly felt guilty about. Leaving you in the torturous hands of a mad clown.

You waved it off, attempting to symbolize the unimportance of the fact, “He had me tied up, hanging over god knows what mixture of chemicals. Well, by the time dad got there, his anger had clouded any kind of judgement he had. I watched helplessly as he pummeled the Joker into the ground, leaving Dick to take care of the swarm of goons.” It was your turn to feel the guilt, you remembered watching your best friend, your brother, take hit after hit just trying to get to you. You shook your head out of the fog and continued, “Uhm…anyways. You all known the Joker and his infamous switches. Well he pushed it, dad was too blinded to notice, but I watched as Dick raced to catch me. He did, by the rope, causing it to dig into my chest.” You shrugged it off, the past made you who you were. You couldn’t run from it, but you had learned from it. “Dad was never the same after that, and I guess neither was I. I knew once Dick picked up the Robin mantle again, and once you all came into the picture, that you guys would need someone on the outside looking in. Someone to watch your backs…”

[33whynot77]

- [] Lullaby [] - Tim Drake

 A/N Yet again another one-shot/imagine thing based off of the previous headcanons I did involving music and the batboys. This one is for Tim Drake. Once again, Please keep in mind that these are my own opinions based on the limited knowledge I have of each of these characters. All criticism should be constructive, please. I’m still just trying this out and getting used to these characters and such. Please be nice to me, I’m trying. Now please read on and I hope you enjoy.

The song featured in this is Song of the Sea by Nolwenn Leroy.

Description: Based off of my batboy music headcanons found here and here 

Genre: Fluff and only fluff

Warnings: Absolutely none because it’s just fluff

Word Count: 2138

Tim was hunched over a computer his fingers typing wildly at keys searching and searching, he was desperate and hungry for the knowledge the last piece to yet another puzzle and mystery that had locked itself into his mind and therefore locked him into his room. Not literally, of course, you’d made that rule the second you started dating, if this was to work between the two of you, he was not allowed to lock you out, literally or figuratively. No, he hadn’t left the room in hours but the door to your shared bedroom in the apartment you’d bought for the two of you, well, mainly yourself, because crimefighting kept him away until late into the night, but you knew he needed somewhere else to escape sometimes and that was what you had offered to him when you handed him a key to your apartment, not that he ever uses the key, he prefers the bedroom window which you keep open until he comes home, no matter how many times he warns you that it’s not safe, not after what happened last time.

You followed his advice once and closed the window, but he’d decided to come over that night and promptly swung right into the window, you’d replaced the panes of glass with bulletproof glass that didn’t break under the pressure of his body flying into it, instead he collided harshly with the window sending him flying backward and reeling. That was the last time you’d closed the window before he came over.

Tonight though he had come home before the sun had set and had not left the computer to even go on patrol, whatever this new mystery was it was already holding onto the deepest parts of his brain. You would be lucky to see him go to bed tonight. This worried you as you recalled he had not slept for the past two nights already. He needed sleep, desperately, but nothing would pull him from his screen, he was lost to the blue illumination that brightened his features and strained his eyes. You sorrowed as you stared forward at the boy you loved. You couldn’t bear to watch him tear his life apart and shatter under the extensive stress and lack of sleep. No matter how much he said he didn’t need it, sleep was necessary for all. Even creatures of the night had to sleep sometime and he could not be nocturnal...

You sighed and leaned against the doorframe staring softly at the boy, but no longer were you watching him or sending harsh bolts of worry towards him with your eyes, instead you were plotting and scheming to yourself about what to do. You knew you could not just approach him and ask him to step away, you could not even try to drag him away, when he got like this he was pretty much glued to his seat and screen, and so you were at a loss over what to do. Until suddenly you weren’t. If there was one thing this boy loved other than coffee, and you, it was mysteries. If you gave him something else to wonder about, it could quite possibly pull him away from what he was doing and you had a perfect idea. 

You walked past him humming softly as you slid your hand on the back of his chair and then moved over to your dresser and pulled out a pair of pajamas, which was honestly just a pair of running shorts and one of his button up shirts that you’d stolen. Then you walked over to the bathroom to change and get ready for bed, you hummed every step of the way, except for when you were brushing your teeth, obviously. 

As you walked back past him for the third time, this time to get in your bed, you could faintly recognize that his concentration was split between what he was doing on the computer and trying to figure out what you were humming. You hummed a bit longer as you pulled up the blankets on the bed and laid down, grabbing a book from nearby and beginning to read a little, well, pretending too, really you were just staring at the book and humming the same melody over and over again. Every now and then you turned pages until you caught him glancing over at you. 

“Yes?” You questioned bringing your eyes to meet his and letting your book fall to your lap, guided gently by your hands. 

“What are you doing?” He questioned tilting his head to the side a little like a confused puppy. You had to fight back a giggle at the thought.

“Whatever do you mean?” You responded innocently, pretending to be unaware of what he was wondering over.

“You, my dear, are humming and aren’t actually reading, so either your really distracted, or you’re doing something.” He responded quickly figuring out at least part of the puzzle you’d offered him. 

“I’ve had a song stuck in my head for a while and can’t really focus on anything else.” You lied smoothly, the song often replayed in your head, but it wasn’t distracting enough to keep you from focus or you’d never get anything done. 

“What song is it?” He asked, successfully distracted because he was far too curious about the beautiful melody you’d just been humming. 

“You don’t know it?” You questioned feigning shock and hurt. He chuckled softly at your dramatics and you smiled softly in response, it was good to hear him laugh, he’d been dreadfully silent ever since he got home. It was nice to hear something more than the click of keys from him. “It’s an old lullaby, my parents sang it to me every night before bed.” 

“How does it go?” He questioned, he loved learning more about you, especially your childhood, you, and it, were full of mystery, but he knew he’d never learn everything about you, there would always be things he wouldn’t know, but still he would endeavor to learn all he could about you and what was important to you.

“Shut off the computer for the night and come to bed and I’ll sing it for you.” You responded, your plan finally drawing to its close. You saw a moment of pause and hesitation in his eyes and so you continued “It’s a lullaby Timmy, and don’t you know lullabies have a little bit of magic when sung, you can’t help but fall asleep when you hear one and I��d hate for you to fall asleep on your computer.” You said with a soft smile and when he smiled back at you, you knew you’d won. You watched him stand and get ready for bed, after minimizing the computer windows and sending it to sleep. Whatever curiosity he had about you and the song had won out over the mystery he’d been fighting relentlessly for since six this evening. You knew it was the knowledge that came from the search that intrigued and inspired him and drove him more than anything. He searched not for the search itself but for the answers it would yield and you had offered him an answer. 

It wasn’t long before he was in bed beside you laying gently against the propped up pillows. You beckoned him closer and then bid him lay down on the bed ready to sleep. Once he was ready and laying there you began to sing. 

“Hush now, my Storeen close your eyes and sleep waltzing the waves diving the deep stars are shining bright the wind is on the rise whispering words of long-lost lullabies.” You began singing ushering him softly into the realm of sleep. 

“Oh, won’t you come with me? Where the moon is made of gold and in the morning sun we’ll be sailing Oh, won’t you come with me? Where the ocean meets the sky and as the clouds roll by we’ll sing the song of the sea.” You continued singing and as you did he moved closer to you and gently laid his head on your chest, he was gradually slipping into sleep and was entirely enchanted with your voice.

Your fingers found his hair and began to softly play with it as you continued to sing “I had a dream last night and heard the sweetest sound I saw a great white light and dancers in the round castles in the sand cradles in the trees don’t cry I’ll see you by and by Oh, won’t you come with me? Where the moon is made of gold and in the morning sun we’ll be sailing Oh, won’t you come with me? Where the ocean meets the sky and as the clouds roll by we’ll sing the song of the sea. rolling, rolling rolling, rolling.” He started humming along softly, having heard the melody so many times already and catching the tune as you sang. It was a soft hum lagging with the drowsiness that was now encompassing him.

“You have the voice of an angel.” He murmured softly barely breaking through the grasp of sleep that was pulling him into its velvet darkness as you completed the song softly. You smiled as he succumbed to sleep and it wasn’t long before you joined him in the realm of sleep.

When you woke up the next morning he was still sleeping soundly, the both of you still wrapped gently in each other’s grasp. You smiled softly and kissed the top of his head. He rose from his own sleep only seconds later and rose to kiss you on the cheek. “Thank you, love.” He said softly as he pulled away.

“For what my dear?” You questioned looking over at him, sleep still clinging to his features but a gentle smile on his face nonetheless.

“For making me sleep and singing me to sleep too.” He answered and you smiled gently back towards him.

“Anytime my love, I’d hate to see you wither away from lack of sleep, even the great red robin needs to rest.” You responded softly. 

“I love you,” He muttered staring at you with complete adoration in his eyes. You found yourself floundering at the sudden and soft declaration. This was the first time he’d said I love you and though you’d known for a long time how much you loved him you were ever the coward and had not uttered the words, that carried so much weight, either. No matter how many times love had slipped into pet names between the two of you, neither of you had let these three words slip from your lips.

“I love you too,” You answered after a minute of searching helplessly after being sent reeling from his own declaration. He was smiling at you, chuckling softly at how three words had sent you spiraling.

“I know it’s a long time coming, we’ve kissed hundreds of times, I’ve pretty much moved in with you, but I wanted to make sure that when I said those words it really meant something and that I really meant them and now I know for sure.” He said softly and planted a soft kiss on your lips. You kissed back gently only breaking it when you couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on your face and the chuckle that soon followed it. “What?” He asked as he drew back from you.

“Well, I was just thinking if I’d known singing to you was all it was going to take I would have sung to you a lot sooner, plus you’re adorable, so I couldn’t help but smile.” You replied and he shook his head softly. “More than that though, I love you and it feels wonderful and hearing you say those words even just this one has made me so happy I couldn’t contain it.” You added finally letting out the truth over your smile and chuckle. “You, my dear, are my sunshine.” You said falling back into the bed softly and staring up at the ceiling a bright smile decorating your face. 

“Ooh, will you sing that for me too?” He questioned laying beside you.

“I’ll sing you anything you wish because I love you.” You answered turning your head to face him a wide grin still adorning your face.

“I love you too and I love your singing, because it’s you singing, and no music will ever sound as sweet again.” He said turning to face you as well a grin now adorning his face as well. He was not prepared for just how right that sentiment was...only a few nights later, only a few of those accompanied by your singing he no longer wanted to listen to other music, they just couldn’t compare to your voice as far as his ears were concerned.

[runmilder]

Baldur’s Bane

AO3 link here

Chapters: 1 / 4 Fandom: DCU, DCU (Comics), Batman - All Media Types Rating: Mature Relationships: Tim Drake/Reader Tags: Mistletoe, vague sex pollen,  happy holidays from Poison Ivy

Summary:

The Poetic Edda has one thing right: mistletoe is a pain. The batboys and their mistletoe machinations.

There is no worse time to live in the city than during the holiday season. Traffic is more congested than usual, public transit is overcrowded with both travelers and their purchases, and outings have to be plotted with more precision than most military operations. And if the cutthroat soccer moms in retail lines aren’t brutal enough, there’s always an uptick in criminal activity, Gotham’s villains cooking up more than just Christmas ham.

And speaking of Christmas ham—

“Where are you?”

Your grocery bags leave angry stripes on your arms as you manage to adjust your phone between your ear and shoulder. Not for the first time, you consider going hands-free. You’re sure your boyfriend would hook you up with something considerably higher tech than a Bluetooth, though, so you don’t mention your struggle.

“Sorry?” you say, lifting one overburdened arm to plug your other ear.

“Are you home?” Tim sounds out of breath. “Please tell me that’s the television I hear in the background.”

You look around at the holiday crowds in the shopping center. “Um. It’s the television?”

Tim mutters something unintelligible. It might be a curse. “Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.”

You open your mouth to reply, any number of comments sitting on your tongue, but he’s already hung up. He always forgets the niceties when he’s stressed; you try not to take it personally. You also don’t bother to ask how he knows your location, instead staring down at the dark screen of your GPS-emitting phone with something akin to betrayal.

Hero-types. Honestly.

Though he instructed you to stay put, you’re sure Tim didn’t mean for you to stand in the middle of foot traffic, so you move off to the side. There’s a bench in sight of the complex’s garland-wrapped stairs and accompanying escalators, and you gratefully sit, bags splaying around you. Your arms protest the sudden return of circulation. Nothing in your immediate vicinity strikes you as alarming—other than the weirdly breathy rendition of Santa Baby playing over the loudspeakers—and you consider checking your news feed to see what has Tim in such a tizzy. Is it another mechanical Santa gone rogue? Are the roads being converted to ice rinks via freeze rays?

How soon does this food need to be refrigerated, anyway?

You have a Christmas potluck at work to prepare for, and then a few last-minute gifts to worry about purchasing before you can even think about settling back and enjoying the holidays. Just sitting here listening to increasingly bad covers of Christmas songs has you feeling antsy.

In your distraction, you almost don’t notice the creeping greenery.

There’s no shortage of people-watching to be done in the heart of Gotham, the city drawing people from all walks of life. You’re playing the old stand-by game, How Many Hero Shirts (twelve so far, and one shirtdress with bat symbol print,) and you can’t help but note that there’re a lot of handsy people out today. There’s a couple making out on the escalator, stumbling as their steps level out with the floor. Two others bump into a column near you, locked together in a passionate embrace. You’re starting to feel like a voyeur, actually, your eyes darting around to see more coat clad figures succumbing to… what? Holiday spirit? Where’s the sense of decorum?

Your eyes meet the scrunched gaze of a kid, probably eight or so, whose parents are getting a little too friendly nearby. Both of your expressions say the same thing: what the hell? Or, in his case, heck.

And then you see the mistletoe.

“Only in Gotham,” you mutter. There’s no one in hearing range (who isn’t otherwise engaged) to hear you let loose a string of colorful words, and you gather up your bags, heedless of Tim’s previous warning, and make toward the nearest exit. The greenery stretches along the walls and vaulted ceiling of the complex, spreading ever further even as you watch. The skylights are quickly being overtaken, the natural light choked out by waxy leaves. It’s unmistakably mistletoe, berries hanging in clumps of both red and white, although you’ve never heard of it growing as a vine. It’s beautiful… and ominous. Somehow, you don’t think the glimmering substance drifting off of the leaves like clouds of golden pollen is anything as innocuous as craft glitter.

Your nose itches, and you valiantly repress a sneeze.

There are other shoppers rushing past, and only some of them look aware of the possible danger. A pinch-mouthed woman with an oversized purse marches past, glaring at the living décor, and you realize that some of the pedestrians are just willfully ignorant. Apparently, some things are more important than Poison Ivy’s (because who else could it be?) newest gambit, although you can’t imagine what. Maybe Kirklands is having a sale.

A sudden tug scatters your thoughts of country chic bargains, and you’re dragged into an emergency exit hallway before you have a chance to protest.

“Sorry for the ambush, but we have to go.” It’s Tim. Of course it’s Tim.

You note that he’s in civilian clothes, eyes unmasked, and you open your mouth to question him, but he half-turns, looking around with suspicion, and you see a peek of red beneath his coat. Ah. You’d bet anything that if you checked his pockets right now, you’d find a domino mask.

“That’s awfully sloppy for you,” you tease, nodding to his outfit when he meets your gaze with a quizzical look of his own.

He looks down, then hastily buttons his coat.

“I didn’t exactly have time for a full costume change,” he says, mouth flat, but eyes crinkling up. He lifts your bags from bloodless fingers and jerks his head toward the glowing exit sign. You’d ask about the alarm on the door, but you’re almost certain that he came in this way.

“Are you going to or from an engagement?” You’re careful with your phrasing even when you think you’re alone; it never does to assume around here. Not when the walls have eyes and ears.

“I’m in the middle of an engagement,” he says, emphasis on “engagement.” He hoists the bags up higher, readjusting. “Did you buy rocks, by any chance?”

You trail behind, through the door and into a service alley. There’s a sleek car there, parked no-doubt illegally.

“They were on sale,” you say, rolling your eyes. “If you can’t handle them, I can take them off of your hands.”

The car’s tiny trunk pops open, the parcels quickly wedged inside. Tim turns with a tiny grin and a raised eyebrow. “I think I got it.”

“Baby.”

“Oh, are we doing pet names now?” His grin grows, widening to near shit-eating proportions. He leans against the rear bumper, keys spinning in his hand, and you want to wipe the self-satisfied look off his face.

Preferably with your face.

Something must show in your expression, because Tim’s smile flickers and he’s suddenly in your space, eyes shifting from warm to analytical. He reaches up and brushes your shoulder, and you glance in surprise to see a fine dusting of golden powder puff beneath his fingertips.

“Well,” you say, swallowing against the sudden tightness in your throat. “That’s… probably not good.”

Tim’s mouth is a hard line. “Nothing life threatening, but—” He rubs his fingers together, the dust dissipating. “I’m taking you home.”

You’re ushered into the low-sitting sports car, Tim sliding into the drivers seat a half second later. There’s no music to distract you from your growing anxiety, and no police scanner either. Tim, when you glance at him, looks distracted, though his eyes are on the road, and his driving smooth as he slips through traffic. Your eyes keep slipping to his mouth, and you berate yourself for it. You’re as bad as the shoppers in the—

Wait.

“Did Poison Ivy infect the city with sex pollen?”

Tim grimaces, eyes flicking to yours and then away. “”Sex pollen” is a bit of an overstatement. There’s certainly some kind of aphrodisiac element to the plants, but we don’t think it’s anything strong enough to break through preexisting reservations.”

“So people aren’t jumping each other in the street right now?” You look out of the window as if to check, but you’ve already passed the last of the spreading greenery. There were several blocks infested with it, though.

He looks uncomfortable. “I didn’t say that.”

“Shouldn’t you be out there?” Not that you aren’t thrilled to be out of the thick of it—who knows when the plants might start to choke their victims with something more than pollen—but your boyfriend is kind of an important person to the city.

“I was—actually, I was one of the first on sight.” He shifts in his seat, taking the turn into your apartment’s parking.

You stare at him.

“Are you—?” Realization dawns. “You weren’t wearing anything over your face.”

Tim parks the car, but leaves it idling. “…No.”

You lean over, turning his chin so that he’s looking you in the eye. His pupils are blown.

“Oh my god,” you say.

“Like I said, nothing life threatening.” He shifts in his seat again. “Just—uncomfortable.”

You almost laugh, but—no, that would be mean. And frankly, hypocritical, because you’re feeling “uncomfortable,” too.

You regard each other for several breaths.

“Well,” you say at the same time Tim says, “Do you—?”

You both stop, and then, with a mental shrug, you decide to just go for it.

Your seatbelt clicks open with a startlingly loud crack, and you let it sling back toward the window even as you duck under the low roof of the car and shimmy over the console. It’s not a car designed for spontaneous lap-sitting, but you think you can make do. Tim, quick on the uptake, slides the seat as far away from the wheel as it will go—not very—and immediately brackets your hips with his hands.

“We could just go insi—” he starts, but you cut him off with a press of your lips. He doesn’t protest after that.

The angle isn’t great, and there’s a little movement as Tim tries to lean the seat back, but you ignore the twinge in your neck and move your mouth against his, his lips softening into compliance. You curl your fingers over his shoulder, your other hand traveling up to grasp dark strands of hair, drawing a little sound from him when you tug. You draw back and he reels you back in, one kiss turning into a flurry of not-quite closed mouth kisses. You breathe a sigh against him, happy to have him here, regardless of the circumstances, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue sliding sweetly against yours.

You’re a little more frantic now, and a lot less reserved. The pace of your kisses quickens, your breaths coming in short pants. Beside you, the window is fogging. Tim’s hand slips beneath your shirt, palm like a brand over your spine. You shift, bringing your bodies closer, and your hips press into his, and oh—

“I think,” Tim rasps, breaking away with a gutted sound, “that we need to get out of this car before we get arrested for public indecency.”

You run your thumb over his lower lip, and he turns his head to nip at it.

“You want to do indecent things to me, Tim Drake?” You mean it to sound coy, but it sounds more like a plea.

Tim reaches behind you to open the door, his chest pressing against yours. Cold air rushes in, but that’s not what has you shivering.

“I have a list of indecent things I’d like to do to you,” he says in your ear. “Would you like to go alphabetically or chronologically?”

It’s probably the nerdiest dirty talk you’ve heard in your life, but you’re already clambering out, Tim hot on your heels.

“Oh!” you say, starting to turn. “The ham.”

Tim makes a sound not unlike a growl. “Forget the ham; you’re coming over for Christmas dinner.” His hand is on your lower back, already guiding you away.

You open your mouth to protest—it’s not for you, it’s for the potluck—but then his words sink in.

Coming over for—

Oh. He’s inviting you to the manor. With his family. Of superheroes.

You stumble up the stairs to your apartment in a sort of daze, but then you’re at the door, and Tim is commandeering your keys, bundling you inside, mouth on your neck, and then—

And then you don’t do much thinking at all.