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It starts when Tim takes a dive off the side of a cargo ship. He doesn’t do it on purpose—to say it was the lesser of two evils is putting it lightly. But he does and he prays he makes it out alive and in one piece because the jump is from really high and that water is deep and dark…
And holy crap, is it cold.
Even as prepared as he is, it’s still a shock to the body—frigid, and enough to send a stream of precious air bubbling from his mouth before he regains control. Darkness envelopes him, stealing any sense of up or down.
But Tim hits the water feet first, just as Bruce trained him. Sometimes, a high dive is the only way out. Who’d have thought it would come in handy so soon into his tenure as Robin, the Boy Wonder?
Not him, that’s for sure.
Fingers claw at his throat and Tim escapes the drag of his cape, kicking strongly in the opposite direction and—hopefully—toward the surface. There’s a rebreather in his belt, if he can just get to it. Pretty sure he can’t be that far under.
A light shines into the water and Tim zeroes in on it like the lifeline it is. Maybe it’s Batman, maybe it’s not, but light means the surface and he’ll take it.
He’s nearly there when something grabs his boot and yanks him back into the depths.
Tim wails mentally and lashes out. There’s no mistaking the drag—he’s not caught in a net or whatever else is down here.
Air becomes an even more precious commodity—his training kicks in once more. The rebreather goes over his mouth even as he’s reaching for his collapsed bo-staff.
The staff extends and Tim takes aim for what feels like a hand around his foot. The tip jabs into something and the grip releases.
Not wasting a moment, he lashes out again. His foot presses against something solid and he uses it to push off, riding the momentum upward to where the light is still shining into the water.
If the whole experience was nerve-wracking before, it’s downright terrifying now. Every bad horror movie cliché comes to mind. Tim swears he’s never watching Jaws again.
There’s something in the water, circling him. It stays out of the light so Tim can’t get an idea of its size. Whatever it is, it feels big. Or maybe his imagination is playing tricks on him. Down here, his entire sense of scale is off. All he knows is that he’s not alone.
The next attack intercepts him barely a meter beneath the surface.
But Tim is prepared.
A hard blow slams into him, enough to stun had he not been expecting it. Instead, he somersaults through it and, for the first time, catches a glimpse of his attacker.
He’s expecting some kind of monster, not the face of another boy maybe a couple of years older than him. A boy with sharp, jagged teeth made for rending and tearing, luminous eyes that gleam green in the spotlight, and a tail that’s almost entirely wrapped around him…
Tim lashes out with the bo-staff again and jabs at the creature’s hip, where the human ends and the fish begins.
The merboy—holy crap, merfolk are real —reels back, clutching at what is apparently a tender area.
Good. Tim has no plans to be dinner for anyone, least of all a boy who’s learning the hard way that not all humans are easy prey.
He wonders if the merboy has gone after drowning humans before, but that’s a thought for later. Much later, when he’s curled up in his bed at the manor with a warm blanket and a cup of Alfred’s hot cocoa.
Tim kicks again and oh! That’s the surface, that’s his hand hitting the air and now it’s his head and—
The merboy grabs hold of his foot again.
No. No!
Tim twists and kicks out, refusing to be dragged back down, not when he’s this close to safety.
But this time, rather than pulling him, there’s a strong push and he smacks into one of the pylons.
Not questioning it, Tim reaches for the grapple line attached to his belt and fires upward. The line catches and he hits the retract switch, going perhaps a little too fast as he flies to safety.
Hands grab him as he reaches the top, hauling him over the edge. It’s Batman and Tim swears he’s never been this glad in all his life.
The rebreather falls from his mouth as he clutches the great black cape falling around him, finally safe from the horrors of the deep.
“Robin, report,” Bruce growls, but Tim has been training with him for long enough now that his worry is coming through loud and clear.
Sucking in air, he lets it out slowly, then does it again for good measure before he looks out over the edge of the dock.
There’s nothing there.
Tim’s not sure why that disappoints him, but it does.
“Robin, focus,” comes Bruce’s voice again. “What happened? You’re missing a boot.”
So he is.
Tim wiggles his still-socked toes and coughs, the chill of the night and the water catching up to him. “Batman, did you know merfolk are real?”
That was the first time Tim met the merboy who lives in Gotham Harbor.
The second time happens much like the first, several months later and in nearly the same place. One of the smugglers, a huge, burly man the size of Batman, just grabs Tim by the scruff of his neck and tosses him off the dock.
It’s hugely insulting.
The fall isn’t anywhere near as far as the last one, but it’s enough to set his nerves alight as the water closes in over his head.
Nearly as fast, there’s a hand wrapped around his boot, tugging him down.
Not again!
This time though, Tim’s better prepared. He cracks open a new flash-bang he helped develop with Bruce, closing his eyes against the brief brightness in the water.
The hand retracts and Tim unclasps his cape, fighting against the drag while making for the surface. He does not want to linger in the water if he can avoid it, not with the merboy still trying to drown him.
He doesn’t have any issues when his head pokes above the gentle swell of the waves. At least, not from below.
A gunshot echoes through the night, just missing him.
Great. Just great. Caught between a rock and a hard place.
He lunges forward toward the relative protection of the dock and debates for all of a second about ducking back under the water. Flying bullets make the decision from him and he dives.
Theoretically, Tim knows he’s safer under water when guns are firing. Batman and the Mythbusters have both proven it.
But none of them had to deal with a merboy latching on again.
This time though, the boy drags Tim along just under the surface, away from the gunfire still pockmarking the waves.
What is going on? He thought he was fish food for sure.
They come to a stop some distance away, but still skirting the docks. When Tim cautiously pokes his head out of the water, another face joins him.
The merboy is pale, like he’s never seen the sun, but his hair is blacker than the water around them.
“Thanks?” Tim says, treading water. “Aren’t you supposed to be trying to eat me or drown me though?”
“Do you want me to?” comes the very surprising reply. The boy grins, revealing those sharp teeth of his. “Because I can.”
“No, no thanks.” Tim backpedals quickly. “Just, why? That’s two times you’ve decided not to eat me.”
The boy bobs easily in the wave that sends Tim spluttering. “I don’t know,” he finally answers. “You’re different than most of my food.”
“Does most of your food have legs?” Tim dares to ask. It would be just his luck that the merboy is a total maneater.
“Not like yours.” There’s that grin again. “Yours look like they won’t get stuck in my teeth. Can I have one?”
Tim really wants to curl his legs up into his chest to protect them, but then he’d roll and the last thing he wants is his face back in the water. “No! I need them both.”
“Are you sure? You don’t swim very well, so it’s not like you need two.”
“I’m human! You’re the fish.”
“I am—” the words cut off as the boy makes a noise that sounds like a series of trills and clicks that probably sound a lot better under the water. As it is, they make Tim want to cover his ears. “I’m not a fish,” he finishes with a fierce scowl.
“Fine, you’re not a fish.” And he doesn’t intend to be fish food. End of story.
Tim reaches for his grapple and fires a shot off. The line wraps around a pole near the top of the dock and he secures the line to his belt. “Well, this was fun, but I gotta go. Batman will be looking for me.”
The merboy darts forward and catches hold of Tim’s wrist. He’s very fast, even above the water. Just how big is his tail? “Maybe next time, I’ll eat you.”
Tim decides then and there that he’s modifying his gauntlets to be more like Bruce’s. He’ll get used to the edged blades eventually. “Maybe next time, you can try.”
He flips the switch on the grapple to retract the line and the boy has just enough time to let go before he’s dragged along, too. The mer’s laughter follows him, unrestrained in the night.
Somehow, Tim has the feeling this isn’t the last time the two of them will meet.
It’s not.
Over the years, Tim finds himself in Gotham Harbor more often than he is out of it. And each time, he has to fend off the attention of one very determined merboy—well, he’s more of a merman now—who’s still interested in one of his legs for a snack.
The mer’s name is Jason. Or rather, that’s the closest approximation Tim can make of the series of trills, clicks, and other sounds the mer made when he finally asked. The look on his face when Tim tried to imitate him was just as pained as Tim’s ears were.
“How about you not try that again?”
“Deal.”
They’re not friends, not exactly. Tim has friends. He likes his friends. His friends don’t want to go all carnivore on his limbs.
But Jason makes him laugh, which he needs so damned much with all the darkness that Gotham throws at him. During No-Man’s Land, he helped Dick and Tim find a way back into the city when Bruce called for them. Then later on, Jason was the only one to believe him when he said Bruce wasn’t dead. He even offered to drown Damian when Dick took Robin away and gave it to the brat.
Tim can’t deny that, for a hot second, he seriously considered letting him.
The overgrown fish makes him feel comfortable, okay? Even if he has to remain armed to the teeth anytime he gets close. Seriously, how is this his life?
“If you call me a fish one more time, I really will drown you.”
“Stop trying to eat me and I will.”
Jason scoffs and rolls in the deep pool in the Batcave. He discovered the entrance about a year after they’d met. Bruce hadn’t been happy to say the least. But once he learned there was very little he could do to stop the mer from fully exploring the expanse of flooded tunnels, he stuck a tracker on him.
Tim just wishes the game Jason plays with Bruce—conveniently losing the tracker and getting retagged—was one he could join.
Because Jason can and will knock him off the pier the Batsub is moored to if he’s of a mind to. Which he is.
Often.
Tim holds up the tablet he’s been reading from, frowning. “Do you want me to read more of this to you or not?”
For some reason, the mer is currently fixated on human stories. They’re working on a book of fairy tales. Or trying to because interruptions occur often as Jason pelts him with questions and clams in equal parts. The questions make sense. The clams, not so much.
Jason blows out a huge sigh and rolls again, the overhead light catching the deep shimmering red of his fins while the inky black of his scales seem to suck all light into them. “Yes.”
It comes out sullen, which Tim takes as a sign to keep his legs curled up on the pier.
He continues reading until Damian emerges from whatever hole he lives in and interrupts. “Drake, the clone is here for you.”
Tim glances at his watch. “Oh, I completely forgot we were getting dinner tonight. Thanks, Damian.”
“The only reason I allowed Pennyworth to order me down here is that it means I am rid of you, if only for a few hours.”
“More like a few days. He’s flying me to Titan’s Tower after we eat. I feel like I haven’t been there in forever.” He rises to his feet and stretches, then turns his attention to Jason. “If you can be nice, maybe Damian or Dick can read to you while I’m gone.”
The scowl on the mer’s face resembles a thundercloud, which is a match for Damian’s. “I’m always nice,” he growls and throws a sea urchin at Tim’s head.
Only his finely honed talent for ducking saves him from a nasty face wound.
Tim rolls his eyes and gingerly scoops up the most recent item intended to cause him pain. “These are so much more trouble than they’re worth,” he says, tossing it into the brackish water where Jason hisses his displeasure. “I’ve never understood why people like them so much.”
Damian sniffs. “Only those with an unrefined palate refuse uni.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like them. I said they’re more trouble than they’re worth. I don’t see you trying to crack one open.”
“You’re useless, Drake.”
“Whatever. I’ll see you in a few days.” Tim turns his attention back to the water, but Jason is gone.
Shrugging, he leaves the cavern, already looking forward to his time away from Gotham to spend time with his friends. At least none of them want to kill him.
It all comes to a head when Jason throws a dead seagull at him.
“Ew, gross!” Tim flails and somehow manages to chuck the thing back at the merman. “Oh my god, that is it. I’m done. I am never reading to you again.”
The pier shudders as the mer strikes it with a protesting sweep of his tail, but one quick leap of his own has Tim safely on shore.
“What the hell did I ever do to you, huh?” He turns and glares. “I’ve never been anything but nice to you, even after all the times you’ve tried to eat me.”
“You don’t eat enough.”
The growled statement comes out of left field and Tim blinks. “I do too!”
Jason hauls his very well-muscled upper body up onto the pier, the gills on his neck flaring before sealing shut. “You had more meat on you when you wore green.”
“It’s called baby fat, thank you very much. Do you have any idea how hard I have to work to keep muscle? I eat a ton.” Admittedly, none of the foods he eats are very fun. Pizza is a luxury. And don’t get him started on fried chicken. His mouth waters at the thought.
“You work too hard. You should come swim with me.”
“You mean try and eat me.”
“No one wants to eat your skinny legs.”
The statement is insulting. “I’ll have you know my legs are not skinny. I just have a lean build.”
“I’ve seen crabs with stronger legs than you.”
“Now that’s just rude.”
“Swim with me and I’ll make your legs stronger.” There’s an intense look in Jason’s green eyes, one that makes no sense to Tim. It’s almost like he’s hungry, which… Nope, he’s not falling for that.
“If I step one foot in that water, I’ll never see daylight again.”
“Daylight is overrated.” Jason glares even harder. “Besides, I’ll give you my air.”
That’s… That’s actually one of the nicest things the mer has ever said to him, but Tim still hasn’t forgiven the fact he now has dead seagull germs to wash off. “Thanks, but anytime I get in the water with you, I have to wear bladed gauntlets and boots. Those are heavy, so forget it.”
With that, he spins on his heel and marches out of the cavern.
Almost immediately, he runs into Dick. Literally.
“Whoa there, Little Wing!” Dick holds up his hands. “Where’s the fire?”
“If I could figure out how Greek fire actually works, it would be Jason’s tail.” Tim shoots a dark look into the cavern behind him.
“I thought he wanted to eat you, not the other way around.”
“Seriously, I don’t know what the hell he wants from me. Sometimes he’s nice, sometimes he’s not. Most of the time, he’s just a dick.” Tim glances at his brother. “You know what I mean.”
Dick nods. “Yeah, I do. What happened this time?”
Tim holds up his hands. One of them still has a small downy feather stuck on his palm. “A dead seagull.”
“What?”
“He threw a dead seagull at me.”
Dick starts laughing.
“It’s not funny!”
“Come on, you know if this were happening to me or Damian, you’d be laughing your ass off instead.”
Tim blows out a quick breath. “Okay, fine. Maybe. But it’s still gross.”
“Do you want me to try talking to him?” Dick offers.
“I don’t care anymore. I’m just done. I need… I need to get away for a bit, I think.”
Dick nods and pulls him in for a quick hug. “You’re long overdue for a vacation. Where do you think you’ll go?”
Tim hasn’t exactly thought that far ahead. “Somewhere I can swim without having to worry about being fish food,” he decides.
“Sounds like a plan to me. I’ll talk to the overgrown fish while you’re gone and maybe I’ll have some answers for you when you get home.”
“Good luck with that.” Tim glares down the tunnel again. “It really sucks because I want to be his friend. I just don’t know how else to clue him in to that.”
“Have you tried telling him flat out?”
“Maybe?” Tim honestly can’t remember now. Jason has been in his life for so long, nearly as long as Dick and Bruce. “If we’re not friends, then what are we?”
“Let me see what I can do.” Dick presses Tim forward into the main part of the cave. “Go take that break and I’ll see you when you get back.”
“Thanks, Dick.”
That night, Tim leaves Gotham.
By the following afternoon, he’s strolling along the sandy shores of St. Lucia in a pair of swim trunks and a ton of sunscreen.
The turquoise water calls to him, but while he doesn’t mind getting his feet wet, he needs a nap before attempting a swim. The warm water feels so good though. He stands there on the shore looking out over the waves until his feet are buried in the sand.
Yawning, Tim adjusts his sunglasses. This far from Gotham, he can enjoy himself, he’s sure of it.
Just… later.
Like the night owl he is, Tim finds himself wide awake in the middle of the night. To avoid the temptation of his tablet and the case files he hurriedly passed on to Steph, he goes back out to the beach. The moon is full and high in the sky, lending a near-daylight quality to the white sand.
This time, he wades deeper into the gentle waves. Warm water laps at his knees, then his thighs. He’s waist deep and debating the merits of just floating when there’s an all-too-familiar touch on the back of his thigh.
Tim jerks and braces for the expected yank, but it doesn’t come.
Confused, he watches instead as Jason’s head slowly bobs out of the water.
“How did you find me here?” More importantly, just how fast can Jason swim? Because holy crap, that’s a long distance to cover in a day.
“I’ll always find you when you’re in the water.”
“Huh?”
Jason growls and his fins cut the surface as his tail lashes out. “Here.”
A hand thrusts through the water, holding a brightly colored bunch of… sea anemones? Their little tendrils droop in the air, giving them the sad appearance of a wilted flower bouquet.
That’s when the lightbulb goes off in Tim’s head. Pieces of a large puzzle fall into place and he blushes because wow, this isn’t what he thought was going on at all.
At the same time, it’s not entirely unwelcome either.
Tim looks from the anemones to Jason’s intent gaze. “You’re not really trying to kill me anymore, are you?”
The mer shakes his head. “I stopped about four years ago.”
Four years. Wow. Okay then.
“Just so we’re clear, what are you doing?”
“Trying to court you.” Jason bares his sharp teeth. “I’ve proven my strength and I’ve shown that I can be a good provider. If you’d ever go swimming with me, then I could show you my nest. I even said I’d give you my air. But you reject me each and every time.” He sounds utterly disgusted by the fact.
Tim’s mouth falls open, then closes. There’s nothing really he can say, which Jason picks up on.
“I figured out what I was doing wrong because of those stories you read to me. That I need to court you the human way if you’re ever gonna accept me. Then I talked to your pod-mate and asked what flowers were because everyone seems to be giving them out in the stories, even though they don’t eat them. He showed me a picture. So here.” Jason shoves the poor sea anemones closer to Tim’s face. “They look like flowers.”
It’s all a little too much and just the right amount of utter ridiculousness that Tim’s come to expect from his life. Jason has been courting him. That has a note of permanence to it which he’s not sure he’s ready for, but at the same time, he can honestly say he has a hard time imagining his life without the mer in it.
Tim takes a step closer and gently lowers the sea anemones back beneath the waves with one hand.
Jason looks like he’s about to protest when Tim’s other hand strokes the side of his face, then cups his jaw. “I can’t keep those alive here. And I can’t eat them,” he adds, making sure he has Jason’s full attention. “So please, set them back where they came from.”
“Are you saying no to me again?”
Tim shakes his head. “I think we need to talk more about this because we’ve just proven that your ways and mine are vastly different.”
The mer’s tail thrashes in the water, but his head is steady under Tim’s touch. “Humans think too much. Especially you.”
“Then why are you still interested in me?”
“Because you fought me off. Because you can still fight me off.” There’s a note of pride in Jason’s voice. “You’re strong. You’re smart. You’re bold. You also annoy the shit outta me.”
“Is that a good thing?”
Jason draws closer and in the moonlight, his eyes glow like the bioluminescence from other creatures of the depths. “Yes.”
There’s probably any number of reasons why Tim should say no to this, but he can’t think of a single one right now.
On impulse, he takes a deep breath and ducks beneath the water.
It’s dark when he opens his eyes, but he can feel Jason’s tail and fins swirling around him. Then Jason is right there with him, eyes still glowing.
Webbed fingers tipped with devastatingly sharp claws reach for him and Tim shudders as they gently stroke his cheek, then tangle in his hair. Their mouths meet and he closes his eyes, relaxing into Jason’s touch. For the first time, he’s not afraid of those dangerously sharp teeth tearing him apart.
When he taps the mer’s shoulder a minute or so later, they rise back to the surface, still wrapped around each other.
“We still need to talk,” Tim breathes.
“I know this doesn’t mean we’re mated,” Jason says. “That you need time. But…” he pauses, hesitant. “Does this mean you’re gonna think about it?”
Tim kisses Jason again before answering. “Yeah, I’ll think about it.”