Chapter Text
Tim Drake had a type. Statistically, he knew this was the case. Every single person had a type, a grouping of traits in temperament or appearance they looked for in a relationship. Bruce had a type, Hal had a type, hell – even Ra’s had a type, as gross as that was to think about. Therefore, statistically he too would have a type. And he did. He absolutely did. It had become apparent shortly after he hit his eighteenth birthday, when he had watched Tam, so fed-up and furious at being Ra’s hostage, stab a ninja in the stomach with a stiletto. Not a stiletto blade, but a heel. A five inch, shiny Christian Louboutin heel.
Their engagement may have been for the press, but for a solid two weeks following that breathtakingly beautiful act of violence, Tim would’ve married her even if Vicki Vale retracted every single one of her articles.
Aside from adding some points to the so-named-by-Steph-and-Jason ‘Fox Family Badassery Rating’, the Attack of the Killer – well, Maiming – Heel also gave Tim some much needed insight into his proclivities. He wasn’t picky at all with appearance, as his relationships with Steph, Ariana, and Tam and his crush on Kon proved. On the subject of personality, it could definitely be pointed out that he liked a person who had no problem at all telling him what was on their mind. However, his main turn-on, his coup de grace, if you will, was a person who could completely and utterly kick his ass.
Considering how he had fallen madly in love with Stephanie the moment she had knocked him across the face with a brick, he was a little miffed it had taken him this long to figure it out. Some detective he was.
Since that discovery, nothing had really changed for Tim. His relationships with Steph and Ariana were over, and while he still loved and adored Steph with every fiber of his being, she was now firmly in the “sibling” category. Tam was really not a part of this particular equation, as (impressively) fake their romantic relationship was, and was still his right-hand woman at Wayne Enterprises. As for Kon, Tim hoped that his realization would somehow help him get over his massive crush on the half-Kryptonian.
How, he didn’t exactly know, but considering how he had almost crashed into a building the other night thinking about Conner’s perfectly tousled hair, he really hoped soon.
Unfortunately, alien invaders had no respect for the romantic complications of a teenaged superhero team leader and had decided to attack earth with extreme prejudice and robots.
Normally, this wouldn’t be such an issue to Tim. The Teen Titans were – while extremely well trained, if Tim did say so himself – still a group of kids that were usually held back from mid-tier battles by virtue of their age and the fact that they still had homework. The Justice League really only called them in when the attack was either extremely easy and the League was secure enough in their victory that they would allow the Team to help or when it was an all-hands on deck, end of the world, one of the Trinity is maimed, dead, or dying type scenario.
However, both Superman and Wonder Woman were out of contact – Superman off-world and Wonder Woman out of cell phone range on Themyscira – Black Canary had strep throat and a broken leg, all of the Green Lanterns were off on Oa for some kind of bonding retreat, Zatanna was in another dimension, and Aquaman was somewhere in Atlantis and not returning any calls.
And so the Teen Titans were brought in.
Tim tried not to be offended that the Outlaws were too.
All this meant that Tim had to spend the next few hours watching the object of his affections decimate a seemingly never ending supply of robots.
It was the hottest thing he had ever seen.
“This really shouldn’t be such a turn on.” He muttered under his breath as Conner blew through a group of the metal bots, tearing and ripping and punching.
If he didn’t already fight crime in tights, this would probably be a sign that he had some major underlying issues.
“What’s a turn on?” Bart piped up from behind him, startling Tim into swinging his bo to attack. The speedster just blurred out of the way and gave his team leader a mildly offended look when he pulled his staff back.
Tim muttered an apology under his breath and turned back to surveying the battlefield. The battle was nearly won, with Conner, Jaime, and Starfire all dispatching the remaining robots with brutal efficiency. Judging by the laser cannons a couple of the robots had boasted, Tim had a feeling that Red Hood would be coming around Gotham with some fancy new alien/human tech courtesy of Arsenal pretty damn soon. As team leader, he was taking a moment to get a read on his troops and make sure everyone was okay.
He most certainly wasn’t watching Kon’s shoulders as he destroyed robots, absolutely not.
All Titans were present and accounted for, though he had seen Cassie go down hard earlier. Granted, she had immediately flown back up and completely obliterated the robot who had made the mistake of attacking Wonder Girl, but still – Tim wasn’t a fan of taking chances, especially when they involved the health of his team.
“Cassie, fall back and make sure no bots got through.” Her only response was to shoot him the bird. Considering she then began to sweep for stragglers, Tim just ignored it. He kept staring at the battlefield, hoping that Bart would drop the topic.
“Tiiiimmmm.” Bart rested his chin on Tim’s shoulder, “Tim. Tim. Tim. Tim.”
Red Robin just shoved his friend’s head off. “No names in costume, brat.”
Bart just pouted and as soon as Tim went back to definitely not ogling Conner, rested his elbow on him. Tim had to channel every bit of the bat-stoicness that was practically second nature at this point to keep from smiling. Bart had to have been made with sunshine and love. It was the only explanation for the shit he pulled – and pulled his friends into – being seen as endearing and not irritating.
“Tim. Tim.” Tim refused to react. “Fine, Red Robin.”
“Yes, Impulse?”
“What’s a turn on?”