Chapter Text
Bernard was… annoyed, and honestly he felt a bit betrayed.
Annoyed because all of his theories had been incorrect, betrayed because Tim hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him about this integral part of his life.
Tim was a vigilante. Red Robin, of all vigilantes. Because of fucking course he was.
Out of all of his theories, the one that he’d written as a joke and ruled out when he first started his investigation had been the closest.
His theory, that Tim was Batman, had been ruled out pretty early into his investigation for numerous reasons (the age timeline not matching up being the most obvious one) and yet had been almost correct. Almost. And he’d ruled it out!
The words “Tim is secretly Batman” would now haunt him forever every time he closed his eyes.
He might as well just hang up his self-appointed title as “Gotham’s Smartest and Best Conspiracy Theorist” because there was no chance he would be able to forget this failure.
Tim wasn’t Batman, but he was Red Robin.
Red Robin.
How frustrating.
And even more frustrating? The identity reveal itself.
Bernard was nothing if not an avid superhero fan. He’d written and read more than his fair share of superhero x reader fanfiction, and consumed far too much superhero romance media in his lifetime. Their identity reveals were always grand gestures of romance, where the superhero saved them from imminent peril or decided that they couldn’t take the miscommunication anymore. But Bernard? His superhero boyfriend had revealed his identity to him by accident. Because he forgot to wear his mask.
It was such an underwhelming, impossibly unbelievable, way of discovering undeniably the most well-kept secret in Gotham, that Bernard had almost been convinced his sickness had caused him to hallucinate the whole interaction.
So yeah. It wasn’t even a cool identity reveal . If anything, it was one of the Top Five Most Embarrassing Moments of Bernard Dowd’s Entire Life. Not only had he been so ill he looked like he was one step away from collapsing on Death’s front porch, but he’d been wearing a Nightwing hoodie in front of Nightwing. And it had a ketchup stain on it.
God. He could never show his face in front of Dick Grayson ever again.
Bernard sighed, rubbing his face with a hand.
“Sooo…” He drawled, dragging out the ‘oh’ sound until he ran out of breath. “Red Robin, huh?”
Tim shuffled awkwardly, avidly avoiding eye contact with him, hands cupped around a mug of steaming hot coffee. The two of them were sitting in his kitchen on opposite sides of the table. It was the day after the literally life-changing reveal, and the sun was just starting to dip low on the horizon, golden light spilling through the window and into Tim’s apartment, casting Tim’s face half in shadow.
Bernard had swaddled himself in two layers of blankets and was wearing a woollen hat to try and combat how cold his sickness was making him feel.
“I– that wasn’t how I wanted you to find out Berns, I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner but I had a whole plan for telling you but things kept happening that delayed it and then Bruce didn’t want me to tell you so he kept giving me his Silently Disappointed Stare and so then I would get nervous and chicken out and then something else would happen that delayed my plan again and–”
“Woah woah woah.” Bernard grabbed one of Tim’s hands, squeezing gently. “Breathe Tim, breathe.”
“I’m sorry.” Tim grasped the hand that was holding his own, gripping to him tightly like Bernard was his life line. And then the whole story came out. All of it. From how and when Tim became Robin, to the frankly concerning relationship he has with his family members (which included several stories about near death experiences and attempted murder… respectfully, what the fuck?), to how he became Red Robin, and finally, what him being a vigilante actually entailed.
Bernard stayed silent through the whole story, holding Tim’s hand and occasionally asking a question or two. When Tim was done, his coffee had gone cold.
Bernard breathed out, staring at the counter in front of him.
“You should’ve told me sooner.”
Pictures of Tim coming home bleeding, of fights he’d seen on the news, of news stories about dead wannabee vigilantes flashed in his mind. He repressed a shudder, swallowing down the bile in his throat.
That could’ve been Tim. What if he hadn’t made it somewhere safe to be patched up? What if he became one of those wannabee vigilantes; just another corpse lying somewhere in an alley, left to rot with the trash and rats because no one knew where he was. Because Bernard didn’t know where he was, who he was.
“I know. I’m so–”
“Stop apologising. It’s… well, it’s not okay. You’ve been lying to me for years Tim, but I… I understand why. And I’m not mad, I’m just, just disappointed I guess,” Tim winced and looked away from him, hurt swimming in his eyes, “Disappointed that you felt like, like you couldn’t tell me, like I might… I don’t know. Leave you? Tell people? Put you and me in danger? We’ve been through so, so much together, Tim. And this is such a huge part of your life, of who you are. And I just… didn’t know, don’t know, that part of you. I, do I, I mean… it kind of makes me feel like I didn’t ever know you at all.”
The words felt sour in his mouth. Too hurtful, too raw. But he said them anyway, because he was hurting and because Tim had lied to him for years. And goddammit Bernard had the right to be upset, now that the situation had truly sunk in. Now that it had properly registered that Tim was a fucking vigilante.
“I won’t lie to you Tim, it hurts. It hurts a lot, that you didn’t trust me with this information,” Bernard’s eyes blurred a little and he blinked rapidly until his vision cleared. His throat was burning, from his illness or from the betrayal, he wasn’t quite sure. Perhaps it was both. “But, I’m glad I know now. Please, please don’t keep things like this from me, Tim. What if you’d, you’d,” He swallowed roughly, the motion sticking in his burning throat. “What if you’d died out there Tim.” His voice cracked. Tim squeezed his hands tightly, grounding him. He wasn’t dead, or injured. He was here, he was firmly holding Bernard’s hands, his eyes full of regret and sorrow. He was safe. “What if… what if, if you… you…”
His eyes blurred with unshed tears and his throat tightened. It burned when he swallowed.
“I’m sorry.” Tim whispered again, his voice low and full of pain.
Bernard shook his head, pulling himself together. He fixed Tim with a Look, “Don’t lie to me again. Not about something like that. Promise me Tim. Promise me.”
Tim nodded, staring at him with eyes full of indecipherable emotions, “I promise. I promise Bernard, never again.”
Bernard nodded, and straightened, pulling his hands from Tim’s to grasp the flimsy white cardboard box that had been sitting next to him on the counter since he got back to the apartment earlier this afternoon.
He’d woken before Tim this morning, had observed at his boyfriend starfished on the bed next to him, hair mused and mouth open, drooling onto Bernard’s pillow, one arm thrown over Bernard’s stomach, and had then spotted the abandoned Red Robin suit crumpled on the floor next to their bed. He’d stared at it for a good few minutes and then promptly decided he needed to go for a walk. To think about everything that had happened. And also… to make a very important purchase.
Tim’s gaze slid towards the box as Bernard pulled it towards himself, eyebrows ticking slightly upwards in silent question. Bernard merely smiled in what he hoped was a mysterious and knowing way.
He gently slid the closed, flimsy box towards Tim, “This is for you.”
Tim pulled it the rest of the way towards him. He tapped it a few times, clearly trying to judge what was inside from the material of the box and the sound it made. He shrugged, mildly theatrically, “What is it?”
Bernard shook his head, amusement dancing on his features, “Open it.”
Tim cast him a suspicious look and tapped it a few more times. He then took an audible deep breath and lifted the lid of the box a little bit, hesitating for a second before he opened it fully. When nothing happened, he sighed and flipped the lid back completely.
There was a popping sound and Bernard squeaked in surprise at the pink confetti that exploded out of the box, despite the fact he’d been expecting it.
Tim didn’t even flinch as the confetti exploded in his face, instead he stared at his cackling boyfriend (who was now laughing so hard that he was almost falling off of his seat as he clutched at his stomach) with a fondly exasperated expression, not bothering to wipe off the bright pink paper confetti that had settled itself all over him.
He leant forwards, lifting himself using the counter with his feet just barely brushing the floor so that he was in Bernard’s personal space. He breathed out heavily, blowing some of the confetti that had been resting on his face over towards Bernard, who was grinning widely as he swatted it out of the air and reached for him before he could withdraw back across the counter.
Tim let his eyes flutter closed, savouring the feeling of Bernard’s hands running through his hair, searching for confetti, and then trailing down his face, thumb brushing tenderly over his cheek. He felt breath on his face and opened his eyes to find that Bernard had leant closer to him and that their noses were only millimetres away from touching. His heart skipped a beat as Bernard’s eyes drifted down to his lips, leaning forwards just a little more, pressing his cheek into Bernard’s palm and ignoring the strain that the movement put on his arms.
Bernard glanced back up at Tim’s eyes, glancing between each one and then down at Tim’s lips again, and gently smoothing his thumb across his cheekbone, smiling slightly at the way the other’s breath hitched and highly aware of the way Tim was tracking his every movement, every breath.
Then he withdrew, leaning back and dropping his hand from Tim’s cheek to flick him on the nose.
Tim hung his head and groaned, causing most of the remaining confetti to fall off of him, “You tease. ”
Bernard smiled at him sweetly, innocently, a flicker of mischief in his eyes, “Mhm. I thought the confetti thing was broken when it didn’t go off as soon as you opened it.”
Tim pushed off the counter and settled himself back into his seat, brushing some of the confetti off of the side and onto the floor in the process.
He glanced into the now open box and then cast Bernard a look that was both amused and confused, “What… what is this?”
Bernard sneezed, wincing as it made his head pound. He waved off Tim’s concerned glance and instead spun the now open box towards him. Inside was a red cake with the words “Congrats on being a terrible liar <3!!” on it in yellow icing. At its base was some fancy looking piping in black icing, circling the cake. His smile widened. It was perfect. Even better than he’d imagined it.
“It’s a cake.”
“I can see that.”
“It’s chocolate cake.”
Tim raised an eyebrow at him, “Why is it congratulating me on being a, quote, terrible liar ?”
Bernard snorted and spun the cake box back towards Tim, pointing at the text on top of it, “It’s pretty self-explanatory, I feel.” He dipped his finger in some of the icing and held it up to Tim’s mouth. ”Look, I even got it decorated in your colours!”
The cake was indeed decorated in Red Robin colours. Red, black, and yellow. It was a little garish to be honest, but at least it wasn’t Robin colours. Bernard had had enough Robin themed birthday cakes in his life to know that the practically neon cake was enough to put anyone off their food.
“I’m a great liar.” Tim merely said, pushing Bernard’s hand away from his face and sounding almost like he was sulking.
“Uh huh.” Bernard merely hummed, licking the icing off of his finger and then moving from his seat to grab utensils for eating the cake. “Sure you are, babe.”
“I am!”
“Must run in the family.” Bernard merely replied, head now in a cupboard, searching for the perfect plates for eating cake and thinking about the previous night and how Nightwing had totally panicked and failed at lying about not knowing Tim.
“It’s chocolate flavoured?” Tim asked, sounding less like a pouting toddler than before.
“Mhm.” Bernard set two small plates down on the counter.
Tim eyed the cake with an offended expression and repeated, “I am a great liar.”
Bernard shrugged, “Maybe, but I guess not to me.”
He grabbed a knife and started cutting the cake, sighing theatrically, “I had this whole plan about confronting you about being a gang leader. I was going to give you that cake and show you a PowerPoint I made with all the evidence I’d collected but then you ruined it with your, frankly, terrible identity reveal.” He pouted, a little put out by the fact that last night’s events had ruined all of his hard work. “But I decided I’d get you the cake anyway, because you are, objectively, a terrible liar.”
“No I’m not!”
“Tim, there’s only so many family emergencies a family can have in a week.”
“I have a chaotic family! We have a lot of emergencies!”
Ain’t that the truth.
“Tim. You once told me that you had to leave our date because you forgot to brush your hamster. You don’t have a hamster. And you’re allergic.”
“I… okay I’ll admit that wasn’t my finest moment.” He conceded, stealing Bernard’s slice of cake despite the fact Bernard was in the middle of cutting one for him.
Bernard merely pointed the knife at him, allowing him to take the slice, and deadpanned, “Another time you showed up at my house beaten halfway to hell and your excuse was that you fell out of bed.”
“I actually did fall out of bed!” His tone was indignant and his mouth was full of half-chewed cake.
“Did the floor fight back?”
“... in spirit.”
Bernard sighed with fond exasperation, “Do you need me to list more examples?”
Tim smirked at him, joy dancing in his eyes at the banter, “No, but I am interested in this PowerPoint you mentioned.”
Bernard groaned, dropping his face into his hands, “Nooo. It’ll be so embarrassing to look at now that I know the truth. I can’t show you.”
Tim swallowed his cake and smiled wider, “And I’m interested in what gang you thought I was leading.”
Bernard let out a noise of exaggerated suffering and dropped his head onto the table, muffling his answer.
“I didn’t quite catch that.” Tim grinned, laying his head down next to Bernard’s and playfully tugging on his hat.
The blond turned his head so that he was laying on his side, facing Tim, “Don’t want to tell you.”
“Can I at least see the PowerPoint?”
“No. It’s embarrassing.”
“What could I do to convince you to show it to me?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“Hm.” Tim smirked wickedly, and then lowered his voice and pulled back, whispering into Bernard’s ear as he went, “And if I said I’d wear the suit during sex?”
Bernard sat up so fast his spine made popping sounds.
He squinted at him.
“Are you being serious or are you joking?”
Tim’s smile widened, “Serious.”
Bernard stared at him, considering, “With the mask?”
Tim had possibly never looked so smug before in his whole life, “With the mask.”
Bernard sucked in a breath, staring at him intensely, as if picturing it in his head.
“Only if it’s not a one off thing.”
“I’m sure I could be persuaded.”
“Deal.”
He showed him the PowerPoint.