Chapter Text
After figuring out that Tim Drake was actually Robin, Bernard considered taking back his offer of a date.
Not because he didn’t want Tim anymore or because he didn’t like Robin.
The idea of dating either one was a dream come true, much less both. Robin was Bernard’s celebrity crush for years, especially Tim’s Robin.
But there was a twisted, guilty feeling in the pit of Bernard’s stomach that just wouldn’t leave no matter what he did. The idea that Tim had agreed to go out with him completely unaware that Bernard knew what had to be his deepest secret? That wasn’t fair.
It hadn’t even occurred to Bernard to be angry that Tim hadn’t told him. They might’ve been friends in high school, best friends, and they might be about to go out, but a secret identity was dangerous. Just knowing could put Bernard in serious danger.
He’d spent too long daydreaming about Batman and Robin and their adventures to not have thought about the possible risks of someone learning their secret identities. Even if the civilian who learned about it was trustworthy—and Bernard was, he’d never tell a soul for as long as he lived, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t withstand torture. Thank you, pain cult—they could still be spotted with the hero and used as bait or leverage. Accidents happen, they could accidentally let the secret slip while drunk or tired or something.
Not to mention, people leave. There’s no real way to be sure that a relationship is forever. If Tim was to eventually tell Bernard the truth, there was too big of a chance of them breaking up, and then there would just be some random person out there who knew the Waynes’ biggest secret.
Unless they had a way to just fix that. Maybe a memory-wiper, Men In Black style?
But contingency or not, Bernard couldn’t shake the uneasy guilt in his stomach. It felt like he was somehow taking advantage of Tim, like he was just using him because he was Robin, even if Bernard knew that he’d never do that. It felt so, so wrong.
Then, a brand new phone showed up on his doorstep in a pretty green box with a little note in messy handwriting that said, my number’s pre-programmed:) - Tim and Bernard’s fluttering heart outweighed any other feeling by a couple tons.
He texted Tim immediately and double-checked their date plans, thanked him for the phone, and said he’d pay for their date.
Less than two minute later, he got back a message saying, gotta spend all of Bruce’s money somehow. Dw about it.
Like it was just a soda from a vending machine or something, not a brand spanking new Waynetech phone.
But…if it was Waynetech, maybe he hadn’t even had to pay. Maybe he’d just told mr. Wayne he needed a phone and got one, no questions asked, no money exchanged.
Bernard would pay for the date anyway. Just to be sure.
Even if it wasn’t exactly his idea of a great mostly-first date.
He’d have suggested, like, coffee or a movie or something, but Tim said there was a new amusement park in Burnside, and he seemed excited. So Bernard said yes, like an idiot.
If he’d been smarter, he would’ve thought it through and realized, of course Tim was an adrenaline junkie; he was Robin. Which meant Tim would want to go on every roller coaster, even that one that went upside down and sideways and made Bernard feel a little sick just looking at it.
Bernard liked adrenaline. He used to drive too fast or ride roller coasters just to feel something, anything at all. But could he really keep up with Robin?
It wasn’t so bad, at first. They met up in the parking lot. Tim giggled like a little kid when he spotted the roller coaster peeking over the horizon and Bernard wondered how someone could look so good in just a plain lilac t-shirt.
Then they went into the park, and right off the bat, Tim pointed out a roller coaster.
Bernard had been dreading the actual rides themselves, but he should’ve been dreading the lines. It felt like an eternity from the time they joined to the time they reached the front.
But the weird thing?
It was fun.
He never would’ve thought he’d say that about standing around doing nothing in eighty-five degree heat that didn’t make any sense for September in Gotham, surrounded by a bunch of chattering strangers and the distant screams of torture—er, people having a good time on roller coasters.
But with Tim, Bernard barely even registered any of that. He was too busy looking at photos of Tim’s little brother’s pets, or listening to him chatter about a TV show he’d been watching recently, or pointing out different rides they could go on later after they finally got done with the one they were waiting on. And sometimes Tim would crowd up close to Bernard to make sure he wasn’t taking up too much space, and it felt like Bernard couldn’t even breathe without embarrassing himself, but then he’d glance down and find Tim looking at him and they’d both laugh.
It felt so natural, like they’d never been apart, like not a day had gone by since Junior year.
The first ride was exciting. The adrenaline rush was a bit of a shock, and it left Bernard’s legs trembling when they got off, so he had to lean on Tim. But Tim just grinned and steadied him, asking, “done already, Dowd?”
“Nope,” Bernard said immediately. “What’s next, Drake?”
“Drake-Wayne to you.”
Bernard shouldered Tim, who hip-checked him in return, and they headed for the next ride chuckling and bumping into each other like third-graders.
Everything after that went by in pretty much the same way; waiting in line, the heart-pounding minute or two on the actual ride, then laughing breathlessly as they got off. Occasionally, Tim would check his phone and send a text, but he always stowed it away quickly and hit Bernard with a big grin that more than made up for the split-second pause.
They swung by a little diner nestled in between a few coasters for lunch. It reminded Bernard of Tweedle D’s, the diner where they used to hang out and study. The fries tasted the same, and the milkshakes were just as watery, but the best part was sitting across from Tim again. Bernard got mint chocolate just for old times sake and Tim got strawberry.
“Hey,” Tim said. “You’ve got—”
He half-stood, leaning across the table to wipe at Bernard’s cheek with a napkin, and Bernard said, “what a gentleman.”
“You remember that?”
“Course I do.” Bernard ran a hand through his hair, ducking to hide his blush. “Talk about a gay moment.”
Tim’s lips twitched upwards as he settled back into his seat and gestured for them to swap milkshakes. Bernard got two sips of the strawberry one before Tim mocked a gag and shoved the mint chocolate back towards him with a grin.
“Gross. You can keep it,” Tim said.
After lunch, they walked around a little, just to avoid getting sick on the coasters. They wound up by a giant carousel and with one glance at each other, they were joining the line.
Were they too old? Probably. Was it a carousel? Fuck yeah.
What was an amusement park date for if not to act like giant kids?
The music was nice, but not as nice as watching Tim’s face, the flickers of a smile in his eyes everytime he spotted Bernard looking. And it was even better when they actually climbed on and chose two horses next to each other, when Tim just kept glancing over to flash a bright grin.
Bernard felt like his heart was going to jump out of his chest every single time.
If someone had told high school Bernard he’d be here with Tim, he would’ve laughed right in their face.
Too soon, the carousel spun to a stop. Bernard hopped down and offered his arm to Tim, who took it and dismounted much more gracefully.
“What now?” Bernard asked.
“You keep on asking me that. When’s it gonna be your turn to pick?” Tim asked.
“You want me to choose?”
“Course, this date’s for the both of us, remember?”
So Bernard suggested stopping by the photo booth, and Tim didn’t laugh or call it childish—which, maybe he should’ve known Tim wouldn’t, between the carousel and just how chill of a person Tim was, but Bernard couldn’t help it.
They just went and took a few goofy photos together.
It was nice.
Then came more roller coasters and laughter and joking, and a few more stops by some food carts for cotton candy here or pretzels there. Tim was like a magnet the entire time, and Bernard couldn’t help but be drawn to him.
Every few seconds, he’d glance over just to make sure it was real, that he was actually on a legitimate date with Tim Drake. Or he’d fiddle with his copy of the photobooth pictures, tucked safely in his pocket.
“That one looks cool,” Tim said casually.
He gestured towards the biggest coaster in the park, the one that Bernard had been doing his best to ignore all day, a shining red one that whipped by at insane speeds every couple minutes with echoing screams.
“You’re gonna be the death of me.” Bernard muttered. “You’re on, Tim.”
“C’mon, Bern, it’s gonna be fun.”
They headed towards the line, Tim in the lead and Bernard trailing semi-reluctantly behind.
Of course, the one Bernard was really dreading had the shortest line of any they’d been on all day, meaning he didn’t even have time to really calm himself down before he and Tim were climbing into the red and black death trap.
The slow chugging as the cart pulled away from the platform made Bernard’s stomach churn. He gripped the bar so tight his knuckles turned white, and Tim shot him a reassuring smile that didn’t help with the butterflies at all.
He was so tense he was pretty sure he was about to grind his teeth to dust.
And then came the drop.
His body plunged, ripping his stomach away.
Tim’s scream was the only thing he could hear beyond his own, but Tim’s was tinged with laughter and giddiness. Bernard’s most certainly wasn’t.
There wasn’t a single feeling in Bernard’s body beyond gravity whipping him around like a dog’s chew toy.
They whipped through a maze of framework and past other carts and Bernard couldn’t stop screaming, his abs and throat thrumming painfully.
He was almost amazed his lungs hadn’t ripped a hole through his body and flown away.
Any almost coherent thought Bernard had merged together into one very, very strong one near the end of the ride, becoming, I’m gonna puke.
Then it became, I’m gonna puke in front of Tim.
He clenched his eyes shut and tried to breathe through the nausea, but every turn and jolt of the cart felt like a taser through his body.
How had he ever enjoyed this sort of adrenaline? How had he ever wanted to chase this feeling? Fuck, the only thing he wanted to chase now was a bucket and some water.
Soon, but not nearly soon enough, the ride slowed to a stop and Tim stepped easily out, offering Bernard his hand.
Bernard ignored it in favor of stumbling a little towards the exit.
“Bern?” Tim asked. “You good?”
The ride attendant gave Bernard a quick look, but thankfully didn’t pursue him. Tim did.
They made it all the way past the exit line and down off a side-path of sorts before Tim gently took Bernard’s elbow and said, “hey, c’mere, try and sit down—”
And then there was vomit on Tim’s sneakers.
Bernard couldn’t even apologize. His stomach was still churning, and he shoved Tim a little bit out of the way and gagged into a bush.
“Shit.” Tim mumbled, just barely audible over Bernard’s own heartbeat in his ears.
Soft hands carefully brushed over Bernard’s forehead, pulling his hair back and out of the way, though it wasn’t really necessary anymore. Bernard’s hair hadn’t been long enough to warrant that since his parents had sent him to that private school after the shooting at Grieve.
But it felt nice. A little warm against Bernard’s already flushed skin, but nice.
By the time Bernard finished bringing up his various foods from the afternoon, he’d managed to move to kneeling, avoiding the puddle he’d left initially. Tim crouched with him.
“Sorry.” Bernard croaked.
“Don’t be,” Tim said, running gentle fingers through Bernard’s hair. “Should’ve waited longer after eating. That one’s on me.”
He made a face, pausing. “Literally.”
Bernard couldn’t help but snort at that, only to freeze when it made his stomach roll, and Tim went back to holding his hair.
They just stood like that for a few minutes until Bernard was absolutely sure he had it under control, then Tim led him over to a nearby bench and said, “you wait here. I’ll grab you some water and warn someone about the…yeah.”
“Yeah,” Bernard said. He buried his face in his hands.
“Bern.” Tim crouched in front of him. “I have five siblings. Dick got food poisoning once and puked all over my lap in a limo after I specifically warned him to stay home. I’m pretty sure I’m, like, impervious to being grossed out at this point.”
Limo or Batmobile? Bernard wondered dully.
“Okay.”
“I’m serious. I’m just glad you didn’t do it on the actual ride.”
Bernard shook his head, groaning, and said, “don’t even mention that. I’d have died of embarrassment.”
“Then I’m double-glad.”
He blushed a little at that.
And then Tim was gone to get water, leaving Bernard to sit pitifully on the bench holding his stomach. He fished out his phone and the pictures, and thought about how at least Tim wasn’t wrong. He probably had seen a lot worse than vomit over the years as Robin. Gross couldn’t even really have been a word in his vocabulary anymore.
The pictures were thankfully uncrinkled by Bernard’s less than graceful performance over the last few minutes. He gently tucked them away again before turning his phone on and checking the time.
Nearly eight. The sun would set in nearly thirty minutes, at which point the amusement park would apparently set off fireworks over the harbor, which Bernard’s Gothamite brain couldn’t fathom. Fireworks? Are you looking for trouble?
But Burnside wasn’t Gotham proper. They were across the river. Most of the rogues didn’t come this far over.
It sucked that Tim would probably insist on taking Bernard home right away, Bernard would’ve liked to see the sunset with him. The fireworks, too. And Tim had seemed interested, earlier.
He flicked through a few texts he’d missed, mostly unimportant, and blatantly ignored one from his father. There wasn’t really anything interesting to look at on social media thanks to the most interesting person Bernard knew being there at the amusement park with him, but he at least saw a news article about the Signal fighting Firefly downtown.
Did Tim know? Was that what he’d been texting someone about earlier? Maybe Batman had been asking if he’d be able to hop in and help?
There was a little shrivel of warmth in Bernard’s chest at the thought of Tim being willing to blow off Batman to spend time with him, but it was mostly overshadowed by concern. What if people had gotten hurt because of it? Signal might’ve gotten injured, and Bernard was ninety-percent sure that Signal was actually Tim’s little brother Duke, which would be…not great.
Before Bernard could get too lost in his spiraling thoughts, Tim returned, carrying a bottle of water and with wet, but vomitless shoes.
“Bern, I got it.” He waved the bottle with a crooked smile. “You feeling any better?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, now,” Bernard said
Tim popped the cap off for him before passing it over and Bernard took a grateful swig. It was still cold, which was a blessing in the heat of the day, and washed away the leftover sour taste in his mouth.
He spit a little into the bush behind him, grimacing, just to be sure he got it all out.
“Put it to your forehead,” Tim said, gently positioning the bottle until Bernard sank against it in relief. He hadn’t even realized his head had been pounding. “There you go. You sure you’re alright?”
“Just hot, I think. ‘S almost sundown, though, so I’m good.”
Bernard took the bottle, ignoring the way his fingers brushing against Tim’s felt like sparks, and sighed. “Sorry I messed this all up, Tim. I really was having a good time.”
“You didn’t mess up anything, Bern.”
Flopping down onto the bench beside him, Tim put a hand on Bernard’s back.
“I feel like I did. Especially since you wanted to see the fireworks.” Bernard mumbled.
“Dude, I can see fireworks any time. I could make J—one of my brothers set them off in the backyard, if I wanted, and the GCPD wouldn’t care even if someone did bother to call them. I’m here for you, Bernard.”
Bernard’s face suddenly felt hot, and it wasn’t because he’d lowered the water bottle.
“Oh.”
With a grin, Tim mercifully slid past without teasing him and asked, “do you wanna head for the cars, then? I can drive yours and have a cab bring me back for mine later.”
“That’s not fair on you,” Bernard said, “I can drive home fine.”
“I’d rather you didn’t. At least, not right away.”
“It’s just nausea, Tim.”
Tim made a face. “What happens if you puke on the bridge and swerve over the side? Or into another car? Car accidents aren’t a joke, Bern, I don’t want anything happening to you.”
For a split-second, Bernard was gonna keep arguing, but the image of years of Batman car chases flitted through his mind.
Plenty of those ended in crashes for the villains. Tim had probably seen a lot of damage from them, and from other, worse crashes, and while Bernard wasn’t gonna let him drive all the way to Gotham and back to the park and then back , he could at least wait a little bit.
“Okay.” Bernard pressed the bottle back to his forehead, saying, “why don’t we go down to the boardwalk for a little while, then? Until you’re okay with me driving.”
“Do you really feel up to that—”
“Tim. Meet me in the middle here, man.”
He got a small, sheepish smile, and Tim nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”
With that, Bernard shoved himself to his feet, taking a brief pause just to make sure his stomach had stopped its Nightwing impression.
Then they were heading for the boardwalk.
The walk was ninety-percent Tim hovering, five percent Bernard trying not to laugh, and five percent them talking, and eventually, Tim seemed to settle down enough that the pinch between his eyebrows smoothed out. He still asked Bernard how he was feeling at least three more times, but he didn’t look so bothered. Just like most of the day, it was surprisingly nice. Relaxing.
They settled down by the pier, perched on a bench, and Tim brought his knees up to his chest to fiddle with a shoelace. “I had a really great time,” he said, a faint blush flitting across his cheeks. “Other than the you-vomiting part.”
“Me too,” Bernard said. He smiled, and Tim grinned back.
That was probably the part where Bernard should’ve reached over and slipped his hand into Tim’s.
It felt like the right time. The cheesy rom-coms Bernard could never fully relate to said it was the right time. Watching the sunset beyond the distant Gotham skyscrapers, bright, happy lights reflecting over the water, couples and families and friends laughing around them. It smelled like popcorn, a chilly September breeze carrying the smell over from the food stands.
Except—
Except what if Tim wasn’t as into Bernard as Bernard was into him?
Yeah, he’d agreed to go on a date, but Bernard had always been the more physical-contact-based one of the two of them.
And Tim had been pressured by more than one of his past significant others, not to mention people he wasn’t even dating. As go with the flow as Tim liked to try and be, he probably wouldn’t even say anything if he thought Bernard was moving too fast.
Maybe he was moving too fast. It was only their first date. There would be time for hand-holding later, as long as Bernard didn’t screw up too bad in the meantime.
So he let the hand-holding idea go in favor of pulling out his phone and teasingly asking, “do you wanna get a photo? Celebrate our first real, non-kidnapping date?”
Tim paused where he was nibbling on his upper lip and nodded enthusiastically, already sliding down the bench towards him.
“You gotta text it to me,” Tim said.
He put an arm around Bernard’s back, leaning in a little bit, and Bernard put the phone up.
While Tim went for a peace sign, Bernard just tilted his head and grinned.
It wasn’t bad. A little dark, thanks to the area they were sitting in, but the boardwalk had giant street lamps that caught Tim’s eyes and hair and practically made him sparkle. His grin was so genuine it almost hurt to look at.
It took Bernard a second to pry his eyes away from Tim’s frozen face and realize, oh, yeah, I’m there too.
When he looked up, it was to Tim still half-a-foot away.
Not only had Tim not slid away, but he was actually leaning a little into Bernard’s space, shivering up a storm.
“Here,” Bernard said immediately, dropping the phone into his lap and shrugging off his orange zip-up hoodie.
“Bern, I’m fine,” Tim said.
Pointedly ignoring him, Bernard gently swung the hoodie around Tim’s shoulders and draped it like a cape. He had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning stupidly.
It was just…Tim had always been so lean. Even now that Bernard knew he was Robin, knew exactly how much muscle Tim must have, there was a part of his brain that refused to recognize it because Tim just wasn’t built like a stereotypical superhero. He looked closer to a swimmer or a dancer than a football player.
And it made sense. Tim’s Robin had never been a brawler like Batman or the Red Hood. He wasn’t constantly doing flips and acrobatics like Nightwing, that’d really build his muscles. Tim used a bo staff as his primary weapon, so he had muscular arms, and he probably did all sorts of exercise to make his legs and stomach muscles so prominent.
But there was only so much exercise, even Bat levels of it, could do to change someone’s stature. Tim was just short and lean. That was how he was built.
Bernard wasn’t built like that. He had wider shoulders, he was a few inches taller, and he could easily wrap Tim into a hug.
So Bernard’s jacket?
It was a size or two too big, enough that when Tim gave in and shoved his arms through the sleeves, the cuffs went just slightly over the palms of his hands. With him scrunched up on the bench, the hem of the jacket draped over his jeans and pooled around him.
Flipping the hood up, Tim snorted and looked fondly out over the water, chin propped on his knee.
Everytime Bernard had seen Tim recently, especially in photos online or in Wayne Enterprises news articles, Tim had been in form-fitting, serious, uncomfortable clothes. But here he was in something oversized and comfortable and goofy, and it made Bernard’s chest glow with giddiness.
Tim was comfortable around him. It felt like an honor, like something he’d won.
He could get used to that.
_____
Bernard successfully drove himself home. He texted Tim goodnight, made himself some dinner that wasn’t quite as sugary and hard on his stomach as the amusement park food had been, and taped the photo strip to the back of his closet door where he’d see it everyday, but nobody else would unless they were looking.
Then he flopped into bed and kicked his shoes off over the side.
He tiredly unlocked his phone, clicking through aimlessly, until he found himself in the gallery hovering over the selfie he and Tim had taken.
With a little, giddy smile, Bernard made a split-second decision.
His fingers practically worked by themselves to press the three little dots, then set as wallpaper. Homescreen.
A bit of resizing fit them both in the screen, even if Bernard’s face was half-cut off. He got Tim’s, which was what mattered the most to him, and he snorted to himself at the way Tim’s hair was fluffed up from a long day of windy roller coasters.
God, he didn’t know the last time he’d felt happy without it hurting.
At least, without it hurting on purpose. The puking hadn’t exactly been fun.
But the rest had been amazing, just hanging out with Tim, laughing their way around the park together. A hell of a lot better than their first date, for sure.
Bernard stifled a yawn and pressed the phone to his chest, wondering distantly if Tim was out in Gotham right at that moment. Swinging around as Robin, working with the other Bats, maybe locked in some sort of fight while Bernard fell asleep.
The idea probably should’ve scared him, but there was something about Tim that just made Bernard feel like…Tim was untouchable.
Of course he’d would be okay. Not because he was Robin, but because he was Tim.