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Chapter Text

There were two things her mother always told her growing up:

First, “I can only wish that God blesses your future soulmate’s soul because god , they’re really going to need it.” And then there was, “if fangirlling was a sport, you’d be a world Olympian by now.”

As sarcastic as those offhanded comments were, they were both intentional jabs directed towards that little hobby of hers but in all honesty, she didn’t think it was that bad…

After all, it had first started out innocently, one that began with a small interest. One that her own mother had actually pushed onto her in the first place.

“Wow,” she felt a nudge at her side, her eyes glancing up to her mother who simply gestured at their television in front of them. “Look at that guy, isn’t he just gorgeous?” She pointed her remote towards that young man on the screen, “don’t you think he’s really good for someone almost the same age as you?”

“…I guess?”

As her eyes lingered back onto the screen, a frown drew onto her lips. She didn’t understand her mother’s praise for him. Sure, he was young, could act and was not too bad to look at but at fourteen years old, she didn’t understand it.

At that time, the idea of being a groupie was a concept from an entirely different world to her, one that she couldn’t fathom nor ever imagine herself joining.

But curiosity was a dangerous little thing. One with the potential to simply open up a rabbit hole of questions as she found herself watching a compilation video of his current drama scenes that night, ‘just one video.’ She had told herself.

But it never just stops at one.

Her fingers moved without her realising it, clicking play on all the algorithmic recommended videos that followed. In all honesty, she didn’t know how many videos she watched that night, but the moment she heard the birds chirping outside her window, she cursed to herself. ‘How did the time go by so fast?’

It had been the start of what her brother dubbed, her ‘Groupie Beginner Phase’ .

Something she vehemently denied – in retrospect, that had unintentionally marked the beginning of her ‘Groupie Denial Phase’ .

She was still a closeted fan by the time her school holidays had ended. Smiling to herself, she sneaked a glance at her new phone wallpaper where a recent red-carpet photograph of her current fixation smiled back at her. She giggled softly to herself as she stole another quick peek.

“I see you’ve descended,” a voice whispered from behind as she swerved back to see her classmate smirking down at her.

Her eyes flickered to the front of the room where some of her other classmates had taken to projecting a concert replay of a boyband they liked during the lunch break, cheering their bias on as they danced. She felt affronted by the comparison, “I’m not going to be one of them.”

The girl in front of her simply folded her arms across her chest, a knowing smile on her lips. “Oh honey, that’s not something you can control.”

It really wasn’t.

It took a good two months before she admitted that she was a fan, descending into the ‘Groupie Final Stage’ as she opened her first social media accounts, creating fan accounts for the man who had won her heart. In doing so, it opened up a gateway of new content. The daily joy that she felt when resharing and keeping up with his latest projects and works, it made her heart swell with pride as she sighed.

“He’s so perfect,” she swooned, pushing her phone to her brother sitting across the dining table. “Look at that smile.” Her brother gave her a deadpan stare, shaking his head before completing his homework.

Her new norm had unwillingly been accepted as ‘normal’ in the family.

“I’ve got to reshare it!”

At that point, she had been a relatively normal fan. She had only fixated on celebrities, actors and idols – people who most fans had parasocial relationships with.

But that all changed the day she was saved by one Timothy Jackson Drake.

Growing up in an apartment located within the Upper West Side of New York City, she had grown accustomed to the comfort and security that her well off neighbourhood and all-girls school provided. Needless to say, she was not prepared at all for what to do when caught in the middle of an Arkham Asylum breakout whilst visiting her mother’s family in Gotham. Seriously, who breaks out in the middle of the day in broad daylight?

The Joker apparently.

And that was enough to instil fear into everyone and everything around her as people panicked, running amok to where Gothamites normally escaped to when it came to situations like these.

One moment she was with her family, and then next thing she knew, she lost sight of them. They had simply been strolling through the park together when a sudden explosion of green gas erupted from various alleyways nearby, which was soon followed by a flood of people dressed in circus themed costumes invading the scene. People scattered, everyone ran and she couldn’t keep track of anything as the initial explosion had practically knocked her off her feet.

And she had stayed there like a sitting duck, confused and disoriented by the chaos of it all until somebody had grabbed her by the hand, pulling her to her feet as they ran.

Everything felt like a daze.

All she knew was that she had been pulled aside to safety, as a young teen, who looked to be roughly three or four years older, glanced down at her with concern. “Are you alright?” He asked, his concerned yet bright blue eyes checked over her head for any sign of injuries.

She had been absolutely starstruck by those eyes. “…yeah,” she managed to stutter out, breathlessly. “I am.”

“Here,” a black gas mask was pressed into her palm, probably to filter out whatever that green gas spreading around the park was. Sensing her confusion, he helped her wear the item carefully, “you need it more than I do.” He told her when she stared back at him in confusion.

“Thank you…”

“Master Tim, are you alright?” A voice called out, following the sound of approaching steps.

They turned to see an elder and dapperly dressed man run towards them.

“Yes, I’m fine.” He stood up, dusting his black trousers briefly before holding out his hand for her to take. Now that she got a better look at him, he was wearing a business suit and looked as if he had just come out of a board meeting (if she had to guess). “Can you make sure that she gets out of here securely, Alfred?” He gently passed her along to the elder man.

“Of course, Master Tim.”

She didn’t realise the elder man had come to her side, pulling her up to her feet until her saviour started to move away. She had to say something, “thank you!”

The teen, now identified as Tim, turned with a hint of surprise. “No problem; I’m just doing my job,” he almost looked amused at her enthusiastic reaction as she waved back at him.

“I swear; I’ll be your fan forever!”

That got an amused chuckle out of his butler, but god had she meant it.

Meeting Tim had opened a gate beyond groupie-ism.

The elder man had not only gotten her to safety, but also helped her to reunite with her family. After they had, she had spent practically every second scouring the internet for ‘Tim + Gotham’ and thank goodness the boy was famous. She soon had a name to a face, Timothy Jackson Drake (or Drake-Wayne, if you wanted to be legal with it) and thus ‘Timtam my heart’ (her new virtual moniker) was born. An ode to not only her saviour, but her favourite chocolate snack as well.

But unlike her previous idols, news and pictures of Timothy Drake barely came by. Aside from the few images of him from Wayne Enterprise (he was already the CEO at 17!) press releases and the occasional Gotham Charity Gala, she was practically begging for scraps to feed her need.

“There’s nothing new.” Grumbled the teen, her finger refreshing the social media page, but to no avail there was nothing new.

She let out another exasperated sigh. “What’s with you, sis?” asked her brother, coming up from behind her. From the flushed red face, to the way his towel hung around his neck, it was clear that he had just come back from their apartment’s gym.

“There’s no new Tim Drake content.”

The elder teen rolled his eyes at that, “if you’re so starved for content, why don’t you just find your own?”

(Her brother would come to regret that statement, eventually commenting further down the line with mirth that, “you speed ran the groupie phase and crashed into the pit of hardcore fangirling/borderline stalking.”)

‘Find my own…’

It was like a lightbulb moment.

“…that’s true.” She instantly sat up in her seat, her eyes blazing with a new found flame. “I can! And I will!”

And thus, she entered the hidden stage, the final end of the tunnel: The Depths of Hardcore Fangirling , that one final step before crossing over to stalking – not that her brother could see the difference.

Years of photography class would finally be put to the use as she slowly built her own fan website for him, and thus ‘Timtam my heart’ (the website version) was faithfully born.

It was clear that in order to get more content, she would first have to be near Timothy Drake. Therefore, she needed to move to Gotham, and the only way she could do it would be by transferring to an equally prestigious school that her parents would have no qualms about: Gotham Academy.

Too bad her parents outright refused to let her do so.

“No,” stated her mother, before bursting out in a fit of frustration. “Don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart! This is your future on the line here.”

“But Gotham Academy is an equally reputable school to Chaplin as well! I don’t see how this could affect my future college admissions.” She protested, one evening when she finally decided to drop the ball on her parents.

But her mother was unrelenting. “Absolutely not.” She told her before gesturing her arms out. “You remember what happened the last time we visited Aunt Joy in Gotham, we nearly died!”

She opened her mouth to speak, “but we didn’t –“

“It is unsafe!” Her mother cut her off, not giving her a chance to even continue. “I refuse to let you go back there!”

“But you grew up there.”

“And I hated it, I got out the moment I could.” Shot back the older woman. “I never looked back nor regretted it.”

From the sideline, her brother silently blended into the background while her father decided that it was time for him to intervene. After all, knowing how stubborn and similar these two could be, this conversation could keep going on all night and as a businessman by profession, he knew how to cut a good deal when he saw one. “Now honey, I’m sure there is something that we could work out.” His wife shot him a silencing glare, which he politely ignored. “How about this? While I agree with your mother that it’s too sudden for you to transfer schools mid-year, I do believe that you should be allowed to travel where you want to go.”

He could see the hope light up in her eyes.

“However, you’re still just a kid, and as long as you’re under our house, you’re under our rules.” That got a pout out of her. “So, no, you’re not going to transfer to Gotham Academy,” he told her in finality as she slumped back in her chair. “But, if you get into one of these schools in the future, I’ll let you decide where you can end up working. Hell, I won’t even stop you if you decide to go back to Gotham to work.” He placed down a newspaper article detailing the current world rankings for the Top 10 Universities in the world.

“Honey,” his wife had a frosty tone, but she persisted.

‘I’m sure she’ll change her mind by then.’

“It’s a fair deal,” said the man, holding his hand out for his daughter to take. If she were to agree to his terms, they would shake on it. “What do you say?”

She took his outreached hand as they shook on it, her eyes brimming with determination as she watched him smile in satisfaction. “Draw up the contract, dad.” Said the young teen, “I refuse to let you back down against your word in the future.”

The man chuckled as he got up to grab his laptop. “Consider it done.”

“Oh lord,” wailed her mother who simply tossed her hands in the air before getting up. The woman was done. “Do what you want. You’ll need a miracle anyway considering your current grades.” She told her, rolling her eyes.

Now while her grades weren’t exactly terrible, they were not spectacular and certainly not high enough for her to even consider applying to any of the universities he had just laid out for her. But if there was anything she had learnt in her life, it was that if there was a will, there was certainly going to be a way. Perhaps this would come to be a life lesson to her parents that you should never push a fan to their limit.

“So, you studied BA History of Art at the University of Oxford and a Masters in Art History at the Ecole du Louvre, and completed a summer internship at the MET,” the woman interviewing her did a double take of her resume once again before staring back at her dumbfoundedly, “and you want to work here ?”

It was not a surprising reaction. After all, with all the academic credentials and skills she had picked up during her training, most would expect her to seek out other (more reputable) institutions to work for instead. Nevertheless, she was determined to work in Gotham City, something her parents still bemoaned about.

But a deal was a deal, and their contract was honoured. At twenty-three years old, she was free to choose where to spread her wings now, and they could do nothing about it.

“Yes, I absolutely fell in love with Gotham as a child,” she answered, with a hint of the truth as she launched into a pre-prepared story of why she wanted to work for the Gotham Metropolitan Art Museum and how it aligned with her life goals. The usual job interview answer, but with a wrapping of personal touch.

It seemed to be working from the satisfied smile on her interviewer’s face. Overall, her interview was going smoothly and she was certain that she had the job in the bag. She was one step closer to fulfilling her little fangirl heart.

“Alright, this is the final question that we have for you: Do you have a soulmate mark?” Now that caught her off guard, and it must have shown on her face as the woman quickly added, “it’s a HR question, we just need to know if you’ve met your soulmate yet or not.”

That was understandable.

She nodded before answering. “Yes, I have a soulmate mark but I’ve yet to meet the person.” She replied honestly, her fingers unconsciously tracing her identifying mark.

It was a simple line, one that had appeared on the onset of her eighteenth birthday. And she supposed it was meant to hold some sort of importance in her life, but like everything else that hadn’t fallen into her ‘Tim Drake Relevance box’ – she had merely forgotten about it because it was insignificant to her.

After all, who needs a soulmate when you have your idol?

And while she had briefly entertained the idea of potentially being soulmates with Tim Drake, all thoughts were completely dashed the moment his engagement to Stephanie Brown, his actual soulmate, was announced.

Now, she would be lying if she said she wasn’t devastated on the inside but she was his fan. And as his loyal fan, she would be supportive of his life choices and relationships, so she did what she did best – she wished him well because she was loyal to him as his fan and his happiness was her happiness.

“A true fan will support their idol no matter what,” she reminded herself, wiping away the tears that streamed down her face. She took another sip of beer; she had been in her final year of undergrad when the announcement had come out. Needless to say, she was coping just fine as she mumbled to herself, “if he’s happy, so am I.” 

Regaining her senses, she opened her laptop and cracked her knuckles, her fingers ready to fight those nameless keyboard warriors who had flooded onto social media to criticise the couple. ‘The audacity of these people.’ She couldn’t believe they would jump sides just because he was engaged now! She would not stand for it. “Fight me, I dare you all to!” She took a sip of her beer before slamming it down on her desk with determination. “I’ll be Timtam’s keyboard warrior so he doesn’t have to!” She shouted, proudly. “I’ll do all his tech defence for him.”

And she did.

And she continued to do so for the next few years.

Whenever Tim Drake found himself in a scandal, she (virtually) stood by his side online and rallied public opinion in support of him.

Her brother has told her that it was a sad way for her to live, but she was rather content with her life. Keeping track of Tim kept her busy after all, it gave her something to look forward to each day after work and was a good outlet for the reality of her everyday working life. But it was truly too good to be true, and she should have known that things would never remain the same.

She never expected her life to change so quickly when the universe finally decided to play its hand with her soulmate.

“You there,”

She resisted a shudder as she felt a chill travel down her spine. She knew those words, and she’s heard them before, plenty of times… but never like this. There was something about the way it rang through her entire body with a chill, but she resisted to delve on it further. She was still at work after all. Biting down on her lip, she steeled herself in a professional manner before turning as she plastered a perfect business smile at the gentlemen before her, “Hello.”

It only took two seconds later for her fate to be sealed for the rest of her life.

“Why did it have to be this Wayne brother?” 

They always said that meeting your soulmate was a once in a lifetime experience – well nothing said ‘once in a lifetime’ more than your soulmate running away.

From the way Damian Wayne had promptly turned and walked off in a robotic manner, you’d think she was the most unpleasant human being in the world.

“What the hell…” muttered the young woman.

She clutched her handbag to her chest as she made her way out of her office. The rest of her day had gone by like a rush.

She had been so caught off guard to see him leave, after all, he was the one who approached her first. What did he even want from her in the first place? “There’s no point thinking about it.” She assured herself. “Alright, I’ll do what I always do to feel better.”

She searched for Tim Drake on Twitter.

Her eyes lightened up as she read the first tweet from a fellow fan, a bright smile returning to her lips. All her feelings of confusion and irritation about today’s events were immediately washed away. “Oh! He’s got a function tonight!” She glanced back to the time displayed on her wristwatch. “If I go now, I’ll be able to make it.” She ran towards the sidewalk, her hand held out high. “Taxi!”

Chapter Text

Her nightly fan activity had left her brimming with a buzz of happiness that spilled over to the next day. 

She walked to work with a pleasant smile on her face, one that maintained till the afternoon when one of their current interns came knocking on her office door.

“Curator,” she glanced up from her computer screen where she was in the process of accessioning a series of newly acquired Mughal miniature portraits for the collection. The intern looked nervous, biting her lip down hesitantly before she spoke. “Mr. Damian Wayne is here to see you?”

That certainly caught her attention.

Her buzz of happiness instantly died as she placed the artwork in her gloved hand down. “I’ll be out in a moment.” The intern nodded, taking it as her cue to leave.

Leaning back in her seat, she tossed her reading glasses onto her desk with a huff. ‘So, he returns.’

After what happened yesterday, she figured that he would eventually come back to see her. After all, the bond, a literal red string, that tied them together was not exactly something that they could run away from forever. As if making its point, it sharpened into focus the closer she got to the front desk where she just knew he was waiting for her.

She spotted him from a mile away, standing at the end of the red string of fate that connected them. She wasn’t sure if it was the schooled expression on his face or his domineering height, but Damian Wayne stood out like a sore thumb. His all black attire heavily contrasted against the white walls of the art museum.

With each step she took, she was certain he could feel a soft pull, one that got stronger as she approached. But if it was not that, it must have been the sound of her clacking heels that alerted him to her presence as he turned silently in acknowledgement.

She nodded to the intern manning the front desk, who stared between the pair curiously but kept her head down low out of fear of meeting Damian Wayne’s judgemental eyes. His disparaging attitude was a secret to none, especially the Gothamites who grew up reading all about his escapades and track record of school expulsions since he came to live with his father. While it appears that he has improved with age, his sharp tongue remained and nobody wanted to be at the receiving end of it.

“Hello Mr. Wayne, there's a café downstairs, we can grab a coffee there first and relocate to a more private location.”

She didn’t wait for him to reply, she moved past him and led the way.

“I must apologise for my hasty retreat before,” they were in her office now.

His steaming cup of tea settled onto her desk, her prior work had been packed away and returned to the repository for safekeeping. Now all that remained was her nameplate and a cup of pens.

“It was rude of me to do so.”

She nodded back from her seat. “The shock of meeting your soulmate can do that to a person.” She replied, softly before moving on to the main order of business. “However, I assume that is not your main reason for seeking me out today, Mr. Wayne.”

The man had approached her with a reason yesterday.

“No,” said Damian, calmly. His fingers clasped together as he eyed her from across the desk, studying her facial reaction as he spoke his next words. “I am well aware of your other activities.”

“And?”

She took a sip of the drink in her hand. ‘Did you think I would be ashamed of it?’

“And I believe it would be wise for you to stop,” continued Damian, his tone serious as he held her gaze, “for your own good.”

‘Now how many times have I heard that before?’

Damian persisted. “I’m sure that you’re aware of how much of a public figure my brother is, and the many people that are out to get him.” He told her, “I’m sure you remember that he had a close run-in with an attempted assassination a while back.” How could she not? She nearly had a heart attack when she watched it live. “If I can track you down as Wayne Enterprise’s Head of Security, I am confident that our rivals can do so as well.”

She could see where he was coming from, and it was a completely valid point. Yet, there was something deeper to this that she wanted to ascertain. “Now is this warning coming from concern over Mr. Drake’s safety, or would it be coming from your own personal interest here?”

That seemed to be the wrong move as she watched the man’s expression darken. She may have hit a sore point of sorts as he lifted his hand – the one bounded by their ‘fate’.

“Unlike most people, I consider myself to be a sceptic of sorts when it comes to this .”

She mirrored his movement, holding up her own hand. “My sentiments exactly,” she shot back at him, internally glad to see that they were on the same page on this. “Believe or not, Mr. Wayne, I’ve never held any allegiances to my mark. However, I have always been loyal to my respect and adoration for Mr. Drake though, so no .” His lips curled downwards, hanging on to her words. “I’m afraid that I can’t and won’t stop.”

His frown deepened as he narrowed his eyes.

‘Irritation,’

She’s seen that expression before, how could she not after spending the past decade of her life following after his elder brother’s activities?

She’s seen the way Damian Wayne looked and behaved when he was around the media, it was eerily similar to the way Bruce Wayne carried himself when he thought nobody was watching – ‘like father like son.’ But she’s observed how that family operated for years now, she could spot and recognise it anywhere, the oppressing body language they sometimes unconsciously displayed to dominate others, most times it was directed towards an unwanted paparazzi that was following them around.

She could ironically still remember a time when Damian used to display it a lot when he was dating his childhood sweetheart, Rachel Roth. Or when Bruce Wayne had first announced his engagement to socialite, Selina Kyle, only to later get left at the altar, which brought on a new wave of public interest. The Gotham paparazzi had practically been desperate for content back then. Nevertheless, she always liked to dub this as the domineering side of the Wayne family, the side of them that expected people to bend to their will or request – ‘but Tim is not like that.’

Regardless, from the way Damian was seething in his seat, she could take a guess to what he would say next.

“You will, if you know what’s good for you.”

The younger man rose from his seat and left; his untouched cup remained.

“Can you believe the nerve of that guy!”

She slammed the beer glass onto the bar counter, her face flushed from the bout of alcohol running through her system.

From beside her, her best friend and fellow Timothy Drake fangirl, My ManDrake, nodded in agreement. Her face was equally (if not redder) flushed, “HE’LL NEVER UNDERSTAND OUR PAIN.” Bellowed the woman, in frustration. “He was actually lucky enough to be part of his family!”

“Actually, Tim was –” She moved to correct her before a finger hushed her.

“Details aside for the moment,” she nodded as her friend told her in all seriousness. “Listen, in life it’s not a soulmate that you need, it’s a fangirl friend.” She took her hand into hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze, one that was very much appreciated with a smile. “Hey, look at this, I know what will make you feel better.” The woman pulled out a phone, instantly moving to load a social media ‘Trending for you’ page. “Tim Drake’s wedding announcement.”

“But I already watched it.” ‘And it was beautiful!’

Her friend brushed her comment aside, putting it up on full screen. “Just watch it again.”

While it was a well-known fact that Timothy Drake has been engaged for the past four years, the date of the wedding was never determined until now, which made sense considering the business of his life schedule as CEO of Wayne Enterprise and the fact that Stephanie Brown was not like him. She did not grow up accustomed to the constant media flurry that flanked the Waynes. It was clear to anyone that they had given her the time to adjust first, and she looked positively radiating and more comfortable now from the way she stood by Tim’s side in the video.

“I promise that I will always love –“

They let out a squeal, as she tossed her head back to cover her mouth. “He’s so sweet, look at the way he looks at her.” She gushed, ignoring the looks sent their way. But to any regular of the ‘Lucky Rabbit’s Foot’ establishment, it was a regular occurrence to see the owner and her best friend screaming their lungs out. “She’s so lucky.”

“He’s a gentleman! Men like him don’t exist anymore I tell you.” Wailed her best friend, the alcohol finally taking effect as the sad drunk within her emerged in full force. “Urgh, if only my husband was more like him.”

“Come on, he’s not too bad.”

She knew her friend didn’t mean it.

“Forget about him,” the woman continued, catching a grip on her emotions as she grabbed her glass of beer. “I just wish them eternal happiness.”

She couldn’t agree more, lifting her cup to clank against hers. “To Tim and Steph!” She cried out, passionately. “Eternal happiness!”

She didn’t know how much she drank, but it was past eleven when she finally left the bar, stumbling slowly onto the street of Gotham.

“Urgh; get home safely.” Her friend called out to her, the woman leaning back on her husband who had come to pick her up as he slowly carried her to the car.

She couldn’t help but laugh, “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” It wasn’t the first time she had to walk back like this, and she liked to think it was her superpower that she had yet to be robbed considering how dangerous Gotham could be at night.

“You look terrible.”

A familiar voice drew out from her side.

She blinked confusedly before turning, “…Damian?” She tilted her head aside, not entirely sure how he suddenly got so close to stand behind her. Hell, she hadn’t even heard him approach her.

“You reek of alcohol…” the man commented, unimpressed, “did you even think about how you were going to get home safely?”

“Nope,” she brushed off, continuing on her merry way. “It’s all fine~”

Well clearly that was an unsatisfactory answer as the man gently caught her wrist, she was about to walk into a lamppost for goodness sake. “Where do you live? I’ll take you back home in my car.”

A free lift home? Well, who was to say no to that?

Let it be known, while she was perfectly capable of holding her alcohol and drinking large quantities of it at a time, she was not the greatest at staying awake when intoxicated on moving transportation that did not involve her walking home. Something Damian soon learnt the moment her head hit the car seat pillow.

For a moment he stared, expecting her to wake up or at least open her eyes. She never did.

He was only so glad that he already knew where she lived when he had begun looking into the origins of her fan website.

Needless to say, nothing could have mentally prepared him for the shrine that her rooftop studio apartment was.

With his soulmate draped across his back (she would not wake up, and he gave up trying after shaking her for the second time), he had easily entered through the front door, bypassing her pathetic password coded door – he only had to look closely at the smudged numbers to guess the various number combinations the woman could have chosen (Tim Drake’s birthday).

As he flipped the switch, he nearly dropped her – nearly.

“This is carnage.” Muttered the man, breathlessly.

All around him, the face of his elder brother stared back at him. Photographs, posters, pillows – hell, there was even a life size cardboard cutout of the man in her living room.

‘Must have been custom made,’ he notes because he had never seen most of these items in any Wayne Enterprise promotional material or press releases.

There was a groan as the woman behind him shifted, he needed to put her down. Moving past her dining table and couch, he found her bed behind a bookshelf.

He shook his head, placing her down to rest before sighing to himself.

How had he gotten into this mess?

‘Patrol.’

It had honestly all begun there.

He had only been passing through the area as Robin when his fate string had so strongly solidified, pulling his attention to the seedy little bar on the street. While she hadn’t been in one of the more unsavoury areas of Gotham (like Park Row), she certainly wasn’t in the safest. From the way she was yelling (yes, he could hear her from outside), she had certainly drunk beyond the legal drinking limit… he got concerned.

He hated that he got concerned, but he had to check on her. After all, he could only imagine the absolute mess it would make if his soulmate went and got herself killed under his watch – his family would not let him hear the end of it. Not that he had actually gotten around to telling them, as he, himself was still slowly coming to terms with the revelation.

He glanced down briefly at her sleeping face before moving to look for her make up remover. Perhaps it came from his time around Brown, but he was certain that makeup should be removed before going to bed. He turned to her shelves, hoping to find something but his thoughts absolutely braked at the items displayed behind some of the glass cases. ‘Isn’t that the pen that Drake had lost after dropping it in public?’ He looked at the item next to it. ‘Tim’s Red Robin coffee cup from XX/XX/XX.’

He did not even want to look further, moving towards her bathroom, which now seemed like a better bet in finding the items he was looking for.

“Hmmm…” Damian paused, a makeup remover-soaked cotton pad in hand. He resumed as he wiped her main make up (eyes and lips) off, earning him a reaction as her hands moved to swat him away but he caught it gently.

“Don’t, I’m wiping off your makeup.” Chided the man who simply placed them back down to her sides before finally placing down two toner-soaked pads onto her face. “Give it a moment.” He told her.

The woman grumbled but obliged as her eyes remained shut.

He wasn’t even sure if she was actually awake, but glanced down at her clothes and contemplated. While he had helped get her heels off her feet, he did not feel that it was appropriate at all for him to change her clothes, especially not when they were only newly acquainted. Furthermore, he did not have her consent to do so.

Deciding that this was all he could do for now, he pulled her blanket over to put her to bed… only to frown.

“A Tim Drake body pillow…”

Lying tucked beside the bed space she occupied, rested a long white pillow with a printed photograph of a Tim Drake sleeping (evidently photoshopped by how angelic and clean he looked, eyebags excluded). The man did not hesitate to toss it aside before pulling her blanket over her shoulders.

With that settled, he moved over to her dining table where her personal laptop laid.

He let his curiosity get the best of him and logged into the thing. ‘A security measure for his family,’ he said to himself as a justification for his actions.

It did not take him long to establish that this was her fangirl computer, from the numerous files labelled ‘Tim Drake 20XX-20XX’, ‘Tim Drake - Work’, ‘Tim Drake - Charity Gala’ and etc… And while he was tempted to wipe her computer clean of any information that could potentially expose his family’s nightlife (like he originally intended to when he first sought her out), he restrained himself from doing so because 1) it would be so blatantly obvious that it was him and 2) he had to slightly respect how dedicated the woman was to her craft… and it obviously made her happy.

Why?

He really did not understand why (he was barely comprehending her mild obsession with Drake as it is) but from the things he had seen and heard from his family, he had to admit that he was trying to understand things from her perspective. After all, your soulmate was supposed to be your other half, the other person that completes you…

Was it her adoration of Drake that was meant to make up for his lack of it for the man? If so, he supposed it made sense that she was essentially the emotion to his logic – wait a minute.

“Do I really love Drake that much?” Was that what he was missing in his life?

He blanched at the thought before shutting off the laptop, he’s seen enough. “-tt-, I’ve never met somebody so narrow-mindedly, bull-headed in their ambitions…” He had to pause again, because for a moment, he saw a glimmer of his past traits.

The him that had first arrived in Wayne Manor, the him that was desperate to prove his worth to his father and place in the family… even if it meant killing Drake, who had held the mantle he so much desired.

Okay, so in retrospect, the Universe giving him a soulmate obsessed with the brother he had tried to kill out of jealousy during his murderous pre-teenage years wasn’t so unexpected after all considering his past sins.

“Todd will never let me live this down.”

Now he could only hope he could hide her long enough until he planned a way to introduce her to the family.

She felt the world swim around her.

‘Damn, the hangover,’

She turned in her bed, mumbling to herself before she heard the chirps of the birds outside and frowned. “…what time is it?”

“6:32am,” her eyes snapped wide open. Every cell in her body practically froze as the voice continued, “don’t worry, you have plenty of time to freshen up before work.”

‘Oh my god,’ she sat up straight in her bed, all grogginess washed away from her. She practically jumped out of the bed, making her way to the living room where Damian Wayne moved in the kitchen. The sight of the man had her reeling back as she pressed her back against the wall in mortification.

Damian paused in his food preparation, raising a mildly amused brow at her antics. “A shower will help clear your mind.”

He didn’t need to tell her twice.

She ran to her bathroom and locked herself in before she sank to her bathroom floor in anguish, her hands flying to her face as she balled. “Oh my god,” she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to recall what happened last night because how !? How was Damian (freaking) Wayne of all people, standing in her studio apartment making breakfast?! She hadn’t even seen the man last night… wait, last night.

“Where do you live? I’ll take you back home in my car.”

Okay. In recollection, the damage didn’t look too bad now that it was coming back to her, her terrible transport compatibility paying off now that she knows she only fell asleep before she did anything she’d regret.

She let out a sigh of relief, recovering as she stood back up. “Okay, that’s manageable.” She hadn’t made that big of a fool of herself, and then she remembered that he was in her home, walking amongst her collection on full display.

‘But now he probably thinks I’m a creep for his brother.’ Well, considering the fact that he confronted her about her fangirling ways, she wouldn’t be surprised if he actually already knew to begin with – he was the Head of Security, he wouldn’t be competent in doing his job if he did not.

She resigned herself to her fate. She will deal with this late, first, she has to actually get ready for her job.

‘Wait, my clothes.’

She bolted out of the bathroom, hurriedly avoiding her problem in the kitchen and decidedly continued to ignore it until she was ready to face him. But first a shower. 

Now, no matter how many preps talks she gave herself in front of the mirror, nothing could falter the stressful fiend that was Damian Wayne – and the lovely morning breakfast spread he had prepared, for only her apparently.

She could tell there was a shift in dynamics. While she was able to stand her ground against him yesterday in her office, her illusion of calm and composure had basically been thrown out of the window by everything that occurred last night. Now, she felt mildly vulnerable, surrounded by her greatest secret exposed all around her. Yet at the same time, she had the inkling feeling that he would not use it against her.

And all together it left her confused even more on how to proceed forward in whatever this was.

She took a seat as the man placed down some jam beside her plate.

“Thank you…” she began softly, pushing back a loose strand of her hair. She took the opportunity to complete her look, not wasting any time as she fastened her earring of the day, “for last night.” 

Damian nodded from behind her kitchen counter, “sugar or milk?” He glanced pointedly at the brewed pot on her table.

“A slice of lemon would suffice.” She pulled her hair back, moving it out of the way to eat.

“-Tt-”

She heard the chair across her scrap against the floor, Damian joined her, a copy of today’s morning newspaper in hand. ‘Did he go out?’

He didn’t say a word, residing himself to simply read his paper as she ate in silence.

It was like a game here – to see who breaks first.

Considering the fact that all the odds were already stacked against her, she bit the bullet.

“We need to talk.” Damian glanced up at her as she placed her fork down. “Our relationship,” she continued, “this soul connection… I’ll be honest with you, I never really put much thought into it.”

“Clearly,” retorted Damian, ‘You have made as much clear.’ The room screamed volumes of her opinion of her love life.

She ignored his tone, pushing on. “But how do you see this relationship proceeding?” She needed a straight answer right now. She needed to know why the hell he was still here? Why did he cook her breakfast? Yes, they were soulmates but they were essentially complete strangers more than 72 hours ago. While some people could easily say that it was because of ‘fate’, Damian Wayne has made it evidently clear that he too was a ‘sceptic’ – his words, not hers. So why?

‘What do you want from me?’

Damian folded and placed the newspaper down, meeting her eyes as he poured himself a cup of tea. “To the very end.” He answered, bluntly. She raised a brow, prompting him to clarify further. “Marriage,” She coughed, she shouldn’t have mirrored his move to take a sip of tea.

The man patiently waited for her to stop coughing, passing her a napkin which she took awkwardly. “Was there ever an alternative to a union? After all, our marks are romantic.”

“It’s too soon.” She shot back, ‘How did you change your mind so fast?’ Better yet, what made him change his mind?

“You need time.” Damian surmised; he could see it in her eyes. The absolute confusion of it all. While he had the previous night to seriously contemplate and come to terms with his feelings, goals and the situation (which was to manage his liability instead of having it used as a weapon against him), it was clear that she had not. At least not yet – perhaps it was time to give her a push in that direction. “You’ve never considered anything in your life past Drake, have you?”

She winced as he hit the bullseyes. “… I need time to think about it.” She replied, before adding, “to think about everything really.”

“So be it.”

With that, he left.

She had never been more relieved to hear the door shut.

Chapter Text

“Marriage…”

It has been a week since she last saw Damian Wayne.

The man had essentially disappeared from her sights, and she was grateful for it because at least he had the decency to give her some space after essentially dropping a massive bomb on her life. While it seems that the younger man had given in to his fate (or so he claims to be…), she was still a bit hesitant to jump into anything just yet.

“Marriage of all things…” it wasn’t as simple as a first date, no – the guy had basically jumped the gun by proposing, deciding to essentially run head straight first to the endgame right off the bat. She shook her head once more in disbelief, befuddled by it all. She paused in her steps, stopping along the stairs that led up to the Gotham Metropolitan Art Museum, “marriage…”

She hated to admit it, but it wasn’t something she had ever really considered. After all, she never really got past the two-year dating mark before… all things considered. None of her previous boyfriends had been very understanding, and that led to a key question in her mind, “what would happen to my fangirling?”

It made up a core part of her life, and as sad as it was to admit, it had become so entwined with her personality and habits. It was a key characteristic of her (real) personality now, even if it was technically a secret from most people around her. If she married Damian, who was legally related to the man she worshipped, does that mean she would have to stop since he would technically be her brother-in-law now (and the media would have an absolute field day if they ever found out). But still, a part of her struggled to imagine a life without fangirling – the thrill and joy of watching her idol.

It made her happy – and why should she have to give up something that made her happy for the sake of her soulmate? It wasn’t like she would be expected to stop and give up everything for him? Right?

Hell, she was pretty sure that Damian wouldn’t drop everything for her. Besides, if he could see how happy it made her, then maybe he would let her actually continue in their life together. And that brought to mind the next big question: “Am I even capable of loving the man?” 

They were soulmates – romantic ones as he had so boldly pointed out.

Universally, she should.

But truthfully (and morally), she wasn’t sure if she could put aside her affections and adoration for his brother. Her loyalty to Tim was strong, and wasn’t something she could imagine fading away so quickly and she would feel guilty for emotionally cheating on the guy.

Just the thought of it was giving her a migraine.

“Urgh,” she resided in calling in sick today; she was not in the correct headspace for this. “I can’t do this.”

She walked back down the steps.

“I need a break.”

So, she did what she always does whenever she needed a distraction – she fangirled.

It was extremely hypocritical of her to be doing this – watching her idol and his soulmate out on a public lunch date, while so vehemently ignoring her own soulmate.

‘There they are,’ she sat down on a park bench, observing the couple from a distance as they took an afternoon stroll, probably during Stephanie’s work break from the scrubs that the blonde still evidently wore beneath her coat.

Something was said, a joke, a laugh and suddenly Tim was grinning like a fool. There was an air of joy that simply radiated from the man, something that just pulled her in, and clearly Stephanie as well as she gazed back at him so lovingly. As a breeze brushed through the park, a stray leaf found itself in the blonde’s hair.

She watched in anticipation, her eyes peeking out from behind the magazine she was pretending to read as Tim gently reached over to pluck it out of her hair. ‘Aw,’ she screamed inside as she felt her heart about to explode, ‘so sweet.’ They were simply so sweet – her daily sugar limit was being fulfilled right now.

As they gazed into each other’s eyes, it was clear that the couple was lost in their own world. She restrained herself from stomping her feet in a fit of giggles, she was still heeled and didn’t want to catch their attention. No need to ruin the moment for them, but she let out a sigh.

‘The way he looked at her…’ it was so perfect in her opinion; she was proud of the man. Another day, another reason to love Tim Drake because that adoration… ‘it’s only for her.’ He was a faithful man!

But for all the love and respect she gave to this man, there was no way she would ever receive the same in return because from the moment he was born, it was already written in his fate that he would love one person. His soulmate.

And that was something that could never be changed.

This bond and relationship that she had with Timothy Drake – it was parasocial, something that she had come to accept long ago. But watching him and Stephanie together like this, two halves of a shared pair, it pulled something in her that she had never really felt before.

Jealousy? No, it was more like envy.

Envy for the love that they shared, would she ever be loved that way by someone?

Suddenly, she was reminded of a familiar pair of dark green eyes that have been haunting her recently.

Now, she wouldn’t exactly say that it was love that he held behind those eyes, no, it was too soon for that to suddenly come about… but she had to admit, there was some level of care or consideration masked behind them. In a way, she guessed she had some sort of place in his life… a place that could never truly be replaced because, “his care would only be for me.”

‘And only me.’

She had to admit…

… It made her feel a certain way.

She had asked him for time, he had obliged.

It had been weeks since she last saw a single strand of Damian Wayne or their red string of fate. Now, it didn’t help that a shipment of paintings had led to a delay in their installation plans for an upcoming exhibition, leading her team into working overtime through the night to prepare. But it was a welcomed distraction.

She glanced down at the object numbers for the four artworks presented before her, and then to the layout on her device. “Place that painting series over there – I’ll prep it to be hung later.” She would have to, as the only person in the room trained and certified to work at height, the sole responsibility of installing most of the pieces fell to her.

Once that was done, she turned to her assistant who was assembling frames. “Horus, I need you to –”

The lights in the room blacked out, there were screams from some of the younger interns.

She switched her phone flashlight on, the motion was followed by others as they glanced at each other around the room. “What’s going on?” She asked, Horus shrugged in return.

There was a sudden gunshot in the air, people screamed as they turned to the entrance where three masked men burst through the room.

“Everybody down! Or the old guy gets it.” Called out the assailant leading the charge, an arm wrapped tightly around the shoulders of a security guard. Blood dripped from the older man’s face as he winced from the pain under captivity.

They were serious.

“Move, move, to the corner of the room – hands on your head where I can see them.” Another ordered, waving his gun in front of them to make a point. They all obliged, scurrying to the corner of the room. “Wait, toss your phones or devices here. No need for you guys to get any funny ideas.” Phones dropped to the ground.

“Get on your knees and huddle over there,” the final individual stated.

Like most people did during robberies, they complied.

Her eyes watched as they circled around the room, whispering amongst themselves as they pointed to specific paintings – the Masters, across the room. ‘It’s premeditated,’ she concluded to herself. There should have been no way for these thieves to know that the paintings would be here now, especially after the shipment delay. Hell, even the press release hadn’t come out yet. Her eyes flew to her colleagues, ‘there had to be an inside mole.’ It was too perfectly timed for this to be a coincidence.

“Where are the police?” One intern quivered, softly.

That’s true.

The Gotham Metropolitan Art Museum security set was set in a way that any situation would immediately relay a signal or alarm within the Gotham City Police Department, but an alarm never went off – meaning it really was an inside job. Suddenly, the realisation that the GCPD may never arrive hit her as she bit her bottom lip. There had to be some way…

Red.

Her eyes flickered to her finger where her red string was slowly, but certainly starting to form and solidify…

‘…Damian?’ Her eyes widened; he was nearby?

Crash!

The glass ceiling above them shattered and suddenly the sounds of gunshots rang out through the air, followed by a series of curses. But none of that mattered to her, the shrieks of fear from her colleagues fell deaf on her ears because all of her attention was entirely focused on who was fighting at the end of her red string – Robin.

Damian Wayne was Robin.

Suddenly, everything started to click into her mind.

If Damian Wayne was Robin, then Bruce Wayne was flipping Batman and Tim… her sweet Tim, who can do no harm, was, ‘Red Robin.’

What happened next was a daze.

She hadn’t even noticed that the fight had ended, she didn’t realise it was even over until she heard a concerned voice calling to her. She looked up at the familiar GCPD uniform standing before her, “Are you alright, Miss?”

She could only stare back in daze, Horus creased his brows as he looked down at her, having gotten to his feet the moment the police burst through the doors. “Curator,” he asked, stretching out his hand for her to take. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine…” she whispered, recovering as she rose to her feet. She stared at her fellow colleagues and sighed, “I think we should all go home for the evening, we’ll continue tomorrow.” It seems like everyone had been slightly rattled by the sudden robbery attempt.

“The police would like to take your statement.”

His voice sent a jolt down her spine as she steeled herself before turning.

It was strange seeing him dressed like this… But she had to maintain her composure, nodding as she replied. “I’ll be over in a second.”

But it was difficult to, especially since he probably had a few choice of words regarding this. Her eyes briefly dropped to the red string that bonded them together, it was vividly clear beneath the moonlight, before flickering back to his domino encased eyes. He knew she knew, after all, this string between them was something that only they could see.

“Wait for me out front,” he whispered lowly to her as she passed him. “I’ll take you home.”

All she could do was curtly nod.

She had been half afraid that he would send her home in the Batmobile but was slightly relieved to see that he had driven up to her in his usual car. She could only wish that he changed out of his Robin costume before doing so though, because sitting here beside him – it was making it all too real for her.

Silence engulfed them for the first few seconds of the ride, before Damian finally spoke up. “…do you understand now?” He glanced at her through the rear mirror, before his masked eyes turned back to the road. “Why you need to stop following Drake around?”

He was back to that point.

“It’s not safe for you to do so.” Stated the vigilante, firmly.

“I just can’t believe it,” she finally said, “I’ve been following him for years, years and I never…” ‘Realised he was Red Robin.’ She rested her head against the window, shutting her eyes. “I watched him get shot,” she continued, not caring if she was ranting at this point. “I watched Red Robin catch his shooter!”

“A simple misdirection,” replied Damian, briskly. He remembered that incident before musing, “so you’ve caught on to the rest of the family too.” It was a given that she would fixate on only Tim though, considering her history.

Suddenly, she shut her mouth. ‘Wait,’ she just found out the Wayne family’s (most likely) biggest secret – she found out Batman’s secret identity for goodness sake!

“… am I in trouble?”

“No,” answered Damian, after letting her squirm for a moment with his silence. “I suppose you were bound to figure it out eventually.” Their red string made it difficult to conceal themselves from each other. The damn thing manifested whenever they were in close proximity, and only got more solid the closer they were.

“Was that another reason why you had asked me to stop?” ‘To prevent your secret identities from being blown.’ Was left unsaid, but heavily implied by her question.

He let out a sigh, “…yes.” It had been the foundation of his first visit to her.

Swiftly, she found herself looking at him in all seriousness as a thought dawned upon her. “Damian,” she began before pressing, “if our soulmate marks weren’t tied by this string… would you have ever told me about this?” ‘Would you have continued to lie to me?’

“Eventually.” ‘After a certain level of trust is established between us.’

She was silent, turning her head away. Suddenly, the bleak skyline of Gotham city at night seemed so much more appealing than talking to him. Her diverted interest did not go unnoticed. 

Perhaps he could have answered her differently, but the damage was done and he had been honest in his response.

Growing up with betrayal all around him, he did not trust so easily – soulmate or not. ‘Trust is earned.’

“... do you think you can even come to love me?”

He was silent for a moment. 

“... perhaps with time.” 

It didn’t leave a good feeling in either of them.

Her door code was the same.

‘That seriously needs to be changed.’

He held the door open for her as she brushed past him, he could see the emotion of the experience finally taking its toll on her as she kicked her heels messily aside. While she had maintained appearances in front of her colleagues, the experience of being held at gunpoint did shaken her up a bit, and her mask of indifference was finally beginning to crack through the careless manner she presented herself to him now.

“Get some rest. I understand that being held at gunpoint can be an emotionally draining experience.” He told her, his hands moving to peel his mask away.

“Thanks.” She replied robotically, not really bothered to care further on what he was going to do. Instead, she ran through her night routine before crawling beneath the covers of her bed, determined to let the day finally come to an end.

When day broke the next day with the cry of her alarm clock, the first thing she smelt was the food.

“Eat,” she hadn’t bothered with getting ready for work, having seen a message from her boss asking all employees to take the day off as emotional compensation for last night’s incident. She settled for brushing her teeth though.

As she stabbed her fork through the pancakes, she could see that like last time, Damian had changed into normal clothes – thank God, she didn’t think she could talk to him seriously when she was mildly intimidated by him as Robin.

“Thanks,” she gestured to the food as Damian sat down across her, a plate of his own in his hands. “Can I ask you something?” she spoke up, suddenly. “How long did you train to become Robin?”

‘So, they were having this conversation.’

He supposed it would have eventually had to happen. He placed the plate down on the table. “You know about how my mother had suddenly dropped me off on my father,” she nodded. “Well, I was ten then and she had trained me from the moment I could walk.” ‘As the heir of the League of Assassins, of course.’ But that was a minor detail he would keep for next time. One bombshell at a time.

‘So, his whole life basically…’ She mentally surmised, which may also have explained his initial entitled attitude when he first came to Gotham.

Considering the fact that they were discussing backgrounds, he only felt that it was fair for him to ask her his next question. “How did you become so infatuated with Drake?” It was the politest way that he could frame it.

She knew it, and she honestly appreciated that he was trying to be tactful here.

“He saved me once, when I was visiting my aunt in Gotham,” she told him, recalling the memory in her mind with a soft smile. “I guess I was starstruck by him, and just became an instant fan. Before I knew it, so much time had passed by and this all sort of came to be…”

“Did you make it or buy it?” He raised a brow, he was curious, so sue him. Maybe he would come to need a life size cut out of his brother one day, hell knows that he or Todd could use it for target practice if they needed to.

She pondered for a moment before responding. “A bit of both actually.” Nodding to herself, “there’s a market for stans, it’s on: XXXX.” She informed him, proudly. “Stans sell everything: artworks, merchandise and other little things that are harder to come by – including information (not that I’ve bought that stuff before).”

Damian made a note of that website, making a mental reminder to check it out in case there was anything useful circulating it. Perhaps he would find a few Gotham Rogue fanatics on there, or some information he could use.

“…how did Tim become Robin?”

The question paused him in his thoughts.

He recovered swiftly though, “I’m afraid only Drake can tell you the details of that,” he knew the answer though.

But a part of him simply didn’t feel the need to expose more than what was necessary about their family to her. Yes, she was his soulmate but at the end of the day, she was still a civilian. The less that she knew, the better it would be for not only the rest of Batman and his associates, but her as well. “How do you feel about Drake now?” ‘Now that you know he’s a vigilante.’

He could see the conflict of emotions streak across her face as she winced.

“It’s complicated… to put into words but it feels like my perspective has changed though.”

“How so?”

She hesitated for a moment. “It’s like my world has slowly opened up, and I guess you could say that I see it,” she said before her eyes met with his. “I see you .”

He would be lying if he said that didn’t have a minor effect on him.

“I’ve thought about it… this whole… ‘means to the end’ thing and,” she continued.

He felt his heart quicken slightly, but refrained from exposing it. There was no need to get his hopes up right now, he had been disappointed before.

“I’ll give it a shot,” he felt an immense sense of relief, and let out a sigh that he hadn’t even realised he had been holding, “but I would prefer it if we took it slow. I’ve not had good experiences with relationships before.”

Damian’s lips curled up in amusement, a smirk forming on his face now. “Was it the deceptive behaviour, or the Tim Drake memorabilia?” He gestured to the room around them. 

She winced at the memories, before begrudgingly answering him. “Both…”

While her interests (to say the least) had drawn disgusted or horrified reactions from prospective romance partners in the past, she was glad to see that Damian was not put off by it at all. Or rather, he technically couldn’t be.

“Well, it's a good thing for you that I can’t exactly hate this face,” mused the younger man, his eyes doing a quick sweep of the studio apartment. ‘That Drake painting is new.’

‘Was that his attempt at a joke there?’ She raised a brow, before she continued to speak. “Look, Damian, I don’t know much about love,” she admitted. “And I know that you don’t really love me right now either.” ‘Not in the way that soulmates are meant to.’ In retrospect, his impromptu proposal made a lot more sense now that she knew he was Robin because it was finally clear to her that it had come from a place of security, not from love. 

And he could not deny that. 

Damian had only ever loved one person in his life before this, and even she had walked away from him. Love, even he, himself, was not too sure about it. But he supposed he could learn to understand it better with time. 

“I agree to your terms.” Said Damian, seriously. “We’ll take it slow.”

They would get to know each other better first, and maybe from then, he would gradually learn to trust her a bit more and eventually come to love her.

 “Like really, really slow. Think slower than a slug.”

His trust was breaking slightly.

Epilogue:

Two years and four months later…

He was lying in bed when he got the sudden call on his phone, his long arms instantly stretching out to answer it. “Hello,” murmured Jon, sleepily as he did not even try to hide his curiosity of why Damian Wayne of all people was calling him so early on a Saturday morning.

While they had been close during their time as Super sons, the best friends had admittingly drifted apart during their time as teens (love and growing up had that effect on teenage friendships) but they did eventually find time to reconnect a bit more after Damian’s break-up. Hell, Jon was the first person he broke the news to and his friend tried his best to comfort him at the time.

“I need you to be my witness.” Straight to the point, that was typical of Damian.

“For what?” asked Jon, a brow raised. ‘Was he headed to court or something?’

“My marriage registration,” the younger man practically shot up in his bed upon hearing that, his eyes wide open.

Jon didn’t know what to say. “Are you serious? That’s amazing, Damian, I mean… I didn’t even realise that you were seeing anybody.” He told him in a rushed flurry. “Well, when is it?”

“In an hour at Gotham City Hall.” Replied Damian, curtly. “Dress sharp.”

The line dropped dead.

And so did Jon’s phone as the man practically bolted out of his bed calling, “Mom, have you seen my suit?”

As Saturday night rolled around, the weekly family dinner at Wayne Manor proceeded as usual. Typical family banter erupted all around him, but Damian remained undisturbed as he finished his meal as quickly as he could before excusing himself. It was not an uncommon sight to see, he was a busy man after all.

But Damian stopped, turning back to address his family as he dug into his pocket – now that struck them as unusual and caught everyone’s attention.

“Before I forget,” said the man, who placed a white and gold envelope on the table. “Here.”

“What is it?” asked Dick, his blue eyes flickering between the item and the back of his younger brother who was already walking away.

Jason ripped the envelope open.

“An invitation to my wedding reception.”

There was only silence – and then pandemonium madness as chairs fell back.

“Wait, to who!?”

The Gotham Metropolitan Art Museum was where it all began – where they met, where he saved her and now where they were holding their private wedding reception.

The marriage registration had been an impulsive decision, made the night before the day. It was too quick of a decision that neither her parents nor brother could make it back from their respective holidays/business trips - much to their chagrin. Nevertheless, she was lucky that she had her best friend by her side to witness the union. In a sense, she was also fortunate that her boss had allowed her to use one of their wider gallery rooms for their last-minute reception, though she suspected it may have been the fact that the Wayne name played a role in that decision. After all, it was excellent for their publicity to do so.

Thus, here she stood, smiling as she greeted her (mostly confused and surprised) guests and family (at least those who could make it suddenly). Off in the distance, she could see Damian amongst his guests, needless to say, a majority of the people in the room were from his side of the guestlist. After all, she would have been more than happy to skip the reception as a whole, but for the sake of formalities (and to also introduce their families), this had been necessary.

“Congratulations!” She felt an arm wrap comfortably around her shoulder as her best friend’s face beamed back at her. The woman had changed out of her initial black dress that she had worn for the registration, and into a more fun and casual one for the evening. A grin broke onto her lips, before she smirked. “I have to ask…”

From the mischief that was beaming in her eyes, she could already tell what was coming.

“Don’t –“

Her friend pressed on, whispering into her ear for only her to hear (or so she thought). ”Are you guys moving into your apartment?” her eyes flickered back to the older man across the room, their icon of adoration who was none the wiser to their current conversation, “you know, the one filled with fangirl memorabilia of his older brother, Tim Drake?”

Her face positively turned red, “Shhh!” Her companion only laughed in return, relishing every moment of the woman’s reaction.

“Oh my god, you guys are going to move into that room full of Tim Drake merchandise! Damian Wayne is going to have to live with Tim Drake’s faces just watching him for the rest of his life!” Her voice raised only slightly as she brushed back the tears in her eyes, but it was loud enough for a few sharp eared vigilantes and super hearing induced heroes in the room to hear.

Jon practically choked on his drink; his father lightly patted his back in comfort whilst sending his own questionable gaze towards the man of the night.

Beside him, Bruce sipped his drink to hide his amusement, having only met the young lady an hour ago. He could already see that she would be an interesting addition to his already rumbustious family but for now, he would relish in the range of conflicted emotions that were streaking across Dick’s face as the man struggled between deciding whether he was to laugh or cry for his former Robin.

Well clearly, Jason picked a side.

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all night.” Chortled Jason, the man clutched his stomach as he wheezed. His blue green eyes flickering between his two younger brothers, and couldn’t decide which he loved more: the aghast look of horror on Tim’s face, or the pained expression on Damian’s as the young man just simply wanted the ground to suck him up right now. “Best wedding reception ever.”

Needless to say, their former home (after Damian ‘convinced’ her to move, citing security reasons) soon became a popular Gotham ‘tourist’ hotspot amongst the hero (and some villains) community.

He was truly not amused by the photograph that Kon-El sent him, a selfie of the super clone grinning with an arm wrapped around the shoulders of the now infamous Drake cut-out. He deleted it immediately, but clearly Drake’s friend had also taken steps to post it publicly as well.

He could only feel a mind-inducing headache come on as there was nothing he could do about this new ‘landmark’ in the superhero world, hell, not even Batman’s no meta rule seemed to deter them anymore.

He was only glad that he had at least managed to convince her to move out of the studio, but evidently, she could still not part with it or her collection entirely. ‘Patience,’ he reminded himself. ‘Soon you will be able to get it all burnt…’ with time of course.

But for now, he supposed he would have to put up with it all.

Ping!

‘Does Robin have a Tim Drake fetish?’

With Vicki Vale’s headlining article glaring back at him, Damian could only scowl. 

THE END