Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Behind you Robin!” The warning on his comms provided Tim with just enough time to dodge. The powerful blow intended for him struck an abandoned building, reducing it to mere rubble.

“Thank you for that, Impulse,” he replied briefly, already focusing on how to contain the mountain of a menace that was targeting him.

The rest of Young Justice was engaged with their respective opponents throughout the block. Bart managing both the frenzied attack from drones flooding the battlefield and monitoring his teammates was a testimony of how far he had come.

A quick survey confirmed that Cassie and Conner were overwise preoccupied. Cassie was battling a weird shadowy humanoid figure, while Conner was engaged in what appeared to be the world most destructive dick measuring contest.

This left Tim the winning contestant in his current game of ‘taking down a meta-human the size of a small building’. Wonderful.

“Need assistance there, Rob’?” Conner joyfully asked over the comms, sensing Tim’s frustration. Proud picked, Tim straightened up, refocusing on his part of the battle. 

“Don’t you need both hands to handle your own fight, Superboy?” he responded curtly. “We wouldn’t want you to get your ass kicked, wouldn't we?”

“Hey now, there is no need to get nasty, man.” Conner replied, his voice covering Bart's laugh and Cassie's snort.

As if to emphasize his point, Conner punched his opponent through another building. Tim considered the extent of property damage likely to result from this battle and seriously contemplated having his friend handle the paperwork this time.

Honestly, it kept getting worse. At this stage, Timp was contemplating diversifying Wayne Enterprises into the construction sector as a means to finance the expenses associated with their vigilante activities. They might even be able to establish a foundation with the profit margin, considering the current pace of Superboy's endeavors.

Evading another powerful attack, Tim found himself in the direct line of sight of Cassie's adversary. He was positioned right between Cassie and a purple light emanating from the shadow figure. Maybe daydreaming about ways to get back at Conner for the paperwork that fell on him as team leader had not been the right strategy.

‘Oops’ was his last thought before the light struck him. 

***

He awoke in the infirmary of Titan Tower. Still groggy from whatever had rendered him unconscious, he quickly surveyed the halls in search of his friends. Unsurprisingly, he found them making a mess of the communal kitchen. 

“Look who’s up!” Cassie greeted him with a grin and a forceful clap to the back. “Sleeping beauty!”

Tim shoved her without real heat and moved toward the food on the counter. Observing his path, Conner placed some edibles from the containers onto a plate while fending off Bart's grabbing hands and pushed it toward Tim. 

“Who’s up for movie night?” Conner asked. A chorus of growls responded. Tim shrugged noncommittally as he began eating. He had just woken up and felt refreshed, so he was open to any suggestion. 

Tim would later reflect on the odd coincidence that led them, an hour later, to Conner’s room, in the heat of debate over the respective merits of the original Star Wars trilogy versus Lord of the Rings as worthy movie marathon material. Typically, movie nights were typically strictly living room material. But then movie nights usually involved all four of them.

They reached an unorthodox compromise in the form of the latest ‘Mission: Impossible’ release. They settled against Conner’s bedframe, Tim's superior laptop precariously balanced between their joined thighs. Tim quickly realized that the movie was doing nothing to distract him from the warmth of Conner’s thigh against his own.

It was a new sensation. While Tim had always found comfort in Conner’s easy-going demeanor since they had resolved their differences and become friends, this felt distinctly more intimate. New, but not unwelcome.

For all the love and care Tim's newfound family and friends provided, he always craved something deeper - unconditional love, fierce protection, implicit trust - things he knew he should have experienced as a child with his biological parents but never did. He always envisioned these feelings arising from a romantic relationship but never quite achieved it. 

So, yeah, a new feeling but a comforting one. Tim allowed himself to bask in the simple reassurance of it as the movie played on. He did not realize how close he had drifted to Conner, his head nearly on Conner’s shoulder, until his friend softly called his name with a trembling voice. 

“Tim?” Conner’s tone was both questioning and affirming. It seemed inevitable after that—their eyes met, mutual understanding dawned, and their lips met in a kiss. 

It was everything Tim had ever wanted and more, because it was with Conner, the person he trusted most. It felt right, uncomplicated, and even destined. 

***

Like everything in Tim's life, things moved swiftly.

But for once, he didn't mind. From regular romantic movie nights to public dates once they had looped their friends on the news – and boy, did they make fun of them for it – to next-level intimacy when they both felt ready to take the next step in their relationship.

In fact, Tim did not mind much lately. His relationship with Conner seemed to cast a golden light over every aspect of his life, both civilian and vigilante.

Even when their first date – an ice-cream walk through one of San Francisco's most touristy harbors while holding hands and sharing stories about their younger brothers' antics – was interrupted by both their emergency beacons going off at the same time.

A shared look was all it took, and they raced back to the Tower, ready for duty, with the comforting knowledge that there would be plenty more opportunities to be together later. 

***

If there was something Tim truly cherished during his years with Conner, it was the family dinners at the Kent farm. Perhaps it was the perpetually sunny skies of Smallville, a stark contrast to Gotham's ever-present clouds. Or perhaps it was the domestic comfort of shared meals at a crowded kitchen table. More likely, it was the actual emotionally functioning interactions among the Kents, with old rifts between Conner and Clark healed through shared growth, Lois's very vocal remarks, and Jon’s relentless quest to make Conner his big brother. 

Whatever the reason, dinners with Conner’s family had become a soothing ritual in Tim’s life, a place where he felt at ease. Tonight, however, he felt a bit off-balance, happy to be there but anxious about the news they were about to share. As always, Conner sensed his unease. He gently took his partner’s hand. Sharing a glance with Tim, Conner decided to abandon their – read, Tim - carefully planned announcement through the window.

Clearing his throat to get everyone's attention, Conner spoke. “Tim and I have something to tell you.” He smiled at Clark, winked at Lois, and looked directly at Martha and Jonathan, who had been like parents to him for so long. 

He then paused and turned to Tim, who blurted nervously, “We are getting married.” Loud congratulations filled the air, overwhelming Tim with emotion. 

Dinner was a joyous affair that night, filled with plans for the future and jokes on how they had broken the news to Tim’s family, Bruce in particular. Not that Tim’s father had a problem with his half-alien boyfriend – a surprising but welcome development. No, the main concern was something entirely different.

“If you need me to step in and make sure he doesn’t go overboard with the ceremony,” Clark offered, “just let me know. It’s your wedding, not Brucie’s latest nonsense.”

Conner turned slightly green, only now realizing what ‘overboard’ could mean for the Wayne family, while Tim chuckled and shared an unexpected piece of news. 

“Thank you, Clark. Actually, I don’t think it’s necessary. Somehow, Jason is weirdly invested in supporting the small, intimate ceremony we want.”

Clark's answer took the form of a thoughtful hum. he wasn’t the only one who thought that Jason's recent closeness with Roy was no stranger to his renewed support. Well, Tim had no issue with his sibling's happiness, especially when he felt so content himself.

And he was more than ready to accept any help in keeping his family’s enthusiasm in check. Even Jason's. 

***

It was a gorgeous day. 

“I, Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, take you, Conner Kent, as my wedded husband in front of our families and friends. With this ring, I pledge my love and commitment. I vow to care for, respect, and cherish you throughout our lives together.” 

“I, Conner Kent, take you, Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, as my wedded husband in front of our families and friends. I promise to prioritize you above all, offering my love, friendship, support, and comfort, respecting and cherishing you always.” 

This day would remain etched in Tim's memory forever. For more than one reason, really.

“Oh my god, Damian, are you crying?”

“Be quiet, Jonathan. I merely have seasonal allergies; there’s no need to draw attention to such a minor medical condition.”

Ultimate sibling blackmail material.

***

The wedding reception was everything Tim had dreamed of and even more. Having both their family and their friends at the same place and the same time had been the stuff of wedding planners' worst nightmares. They managed to organize it in a relatively acceptable timeframe - and only two interruptions due to worldwide and Gotham emergencies. Practically without a hitch, for them.

Seeing Bruce and Jason talking from their own volution without yelling or throwing things - likely because Lian was sitting on Jason’s lap - was never going to be old. If he'd known his wedding would be the reason those two would finally act like adults, he might have proposed to Conner the day he met him. 

Feeling Conner’s hand on his back, he turned to his - holy cow - husband.

“Everything okay?” Conner asked, probably as worried as he was about the potential nuclear fallout waiting to happen of Bruce and Jason being near each other.

“All clear,” Tim replied, giving him a quick kiss. “Let’s get back to Cass and Bart; I’ve been promised a group dance.”

Conner snorted but linked arms with him and led him back to their friends. “You have to stop listening to Bart’s ideas after midnight. That’s a fact I’ll be enforcing from now on.” 

“Hmm, and how exactly do you plan to enforce that?” Tim asked suggestively. Two could play that game.

“By canceling weekly movie nights with the team, for starters.”

Damn, busted.

***

It was not a slow day at Wayne Enterprises. It did not stop Tim from physically jumping on his phone when he saw it flashing on the Board Meeting table. With a quick handwave at Tam to tell her to apologize to the Board for him, he quickly left the room and answered.

A few minutes later, he was still frozen in the hallway. His mind was going a hundred miles a minute, submerged with the organizational implications of the news he had just received. Was it a way to not let himself crack under the emotion that was menacing to overwhelm him? Yes. Sue him, he had Wayne Enterprises' legal team on his corner.

Conner, he had to tell Conner.

Just as he remembered his husband, he heard a well-known sound and felt the associated gust of wind.

“Tim, what happened? Tam texted me and...” Conner was in front of him, frantic and gripping him so hard it almost hurt.

Tim beamed at him and jumped into his arms; the professional composure he had spent so many years building since becoming a 17-year-old CEO vanishing instantly.

“We’ve been validated. There’s a kid in need of a family – Joel, that’s his name, he’s six months old – and we are available, and he’s from Gotham so that was a plus for us, and we have to go get him right now, Conner!” Tim was babbling, he knew it.

He did not care. From the size of Conner's smile, his beloved husband did not care either.

A kid. They were going to be parents. The weight of that realization, the joy, the fear, the overwhelming love for a child he had never met, sent Tim's thoughts spiraling. His heart pounded with anticipation, a mixture of happiness and anxiety twisting in his chest. He clung to Conner, feeling the solidity of their shared dream finally coming to life. 

The future was suddenly brighter, filled with the promise of laughter, sleepless nights, and endless love.

***

Tim sat on the living room floor, his eyes glued to Joel's tentative steps. Conner held Joel by his little hands, inching him forward. Every wobble felt like a small earthquake, but Joel's determination was unwavering. 

“Come on, buddy! You can do it!” Tim encouraged. “Channel Bruce stubbornness or something!”

Conner's eyes left his son to glare at his husband. “Joel, focus on Grand-dad Clark's perseverance!” He corrected.

With a final push of courage, Joel let go of Conner's hands and took his first solo steps into Tim’s waiting arms. The room erupted in cheers, and Tim's heart swelled with pride. He held Joel close, feeling the small, rapid heartbeat against his own chest.

“You did it, Joel,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You did it.”

He felt an overwhelming sense of pride, not just for the steps Joel had taken, but for the journey ahead that they would navigate together. This was just the beginning, and Tim knew that with every step, leap, and bound, his pride for his son would only grow deeper. 

He felt Conner near him and knew with a newfound certainty that this? This was everything he ever wanted.

***

First day of school arrived with a mix of excitement and trepidation – for all of them. Joel clung to Tim’s leg, his new backpack almost bigger than him.

“You’re going to make so many friends and learn new things,” Tim reassured him, though the words caught in his throat, his heart aching at the thought of Joel growing up so fast.

“I already have friends,” Joel muttered in his father’s pants.

Conner patiently patted his head and crouched at his level. "Another type of friends," he clarified, indicating that all of Jole's acquaintances were either children of vigilante heroes or metahumans. Thus, going to school to have a chance at a normal life, which both Tim and Conner had been adamant about.

As Joel walked into the classroom, a pang of bittersweet pride washed over Tim. He saw his son taking those tentative steps towards independence, and in that moment, the years seemed to blur together. The tiny baby he had once cradled was now embarking on his own adventures. 

School’s one, for starters, but still. Adventure on his own.

Tim felt a lump in his throat and a tear threatening to escape, but he smiled bravely. He glanced at Conner, who looked back with a mocking yet understanding smile.

They both shared that unspoken feeling of pride tempered with a touch of melancholy. Children did grow up too fast, and all they could do was cherish every fleeting moment. 

***

The auditorium was filled with the sounds of celebration. Tim and Conner sat in the front row, their eyes fixed on Joel as he walked across the stage to receive his diploma. The years had flown by in a blur of school projects, sports events, and late-night study sessions.

As Joel shook the principal’s hand, Tim felt a rush of emotions overcome him. Seeing his son, once a boy taking his first steps, now stepping confidently into adulthood, filled him with immense pride and joy. It was a moment that encapsulated all the years of growth, challenges, and triumphs.

Tim couldn’t help but marvel at the remarkable young man Joel had become, almost an adult of his own.  This milestone was not just Joel’s, but also a testament to the journey they had shared together as a family.

Tears were threatening to fall from his eyes. Tim felt more than saw Damian, seated next to him, hand him a handkerchief.

“I see you’re subject to seasonal allergies as well, Drake. You might want to remember it the next time you feel compelled to remind me of mine.”

Well, it had been over 20 years. Time to let go, then.

***

The wedding was an elegant event, not unlike Conner and his. The main difference was that Joel and Tasha allowed Bruce to have more creative control over the proceedings. As the proud grandfather he was, Bruce had gone wild indeed. He had spared no expense in ensuring that his grandson’s wedding would be the most magnificent affair ever witnessed. 

Every detail, from the cascading floral arrangements to the opulent chandeliers, spoke of luxury and extravagance. The lavishness extended to every aspect of the celebration. A world-renowned chef crafted a menu that included rare delicacies from around the world, and a famous band provided the live music, ensuring the dance floor was never empty. Even the wedding favors were extravagant, with each guest receiving a customized gift that reflected the grand scale of the occasion. It was a bit - a lot - much, admittedly, but the result was fantastic.

Tim stood beside Joel, his heart swelling with pride as his son exchanged vows with his beautiful bride. Conner discreetly wiped away a tear, and Tim squeezed his hand. They both knew this was the beginning of a new chapter, not just for Joel, but for their entire family.

As Joel and his spouse shared their first kiss as a married couple, Tim was overwhelmed with happiness. He felt as if he were living a fantasy, watching his son step into a new, joyous chapter of life, just as he and Conner had once done. 

***

The joy in the hospital room was palpable. Joel and his spouse watched, their faces alight with happiness and fatigue. 

“Welcome, little one,” Tim murmured, tears rolling down his cheeks as he held his grandson for the first time. Conner kissed the baby’s forehead tenderly, his eyes brimming with love as always. “Welcome to the madhouse, kid,” he softly greeted the newborn. 

With each moment shared, Tim and Conner’s love for each other and for Joel had deepened, becoming richer and more enduring. Their family was a tapestry of memories, woven with threads of love, laughter, and shared experiences. 

Looking ahead, they knew there would be countless moments to cherish, each one enriching the beautiful story of their lives. 

***

In his final days, Tim lay in bed, the weight of his many years evident in his frail form. Conner sat beside him, holding his hand. His still youthful appearance was a stark contrast to Tim's aged features. Despite the inevitable end approaching, Tim felt a serene contentment. He had lived a full and joyous life, surrounded by the love of his family. 

Tim's heart swelled with gratitude as he reflected on the lifetime of memories he had amassed. He had cherished every moment with Conner, their laughter and shared dreams, and the deep bond they had cultivated over the years. The warmth of their love had been an unwavering beacon through the many seasons of life, guiding him through both triumphs and trials. 

As he looked around the room, filled with the faces of loved ones, Tim knew he had been truly blessed. Each smile, each tear, and each whispered word of comfort was a testament to the profound connections he had forged. The knowledge that he had been loved so deeply and had given love in return filled him with a profound peace. 

With Conner by his side and the legacy of their shared journey firmly in place, Tim closed his eyes, a peaceful smile playing on his lips, ready to embrace the next chapter beyond this life. His heart was light, knowing that he had lived fully and loved deeply. 

***

Tim woke up in the infirmary of the Titan Tower.

Chapter Text

“Thank God you’re awake.” Cassie's voice pierced Tim's brain like a sadistic ice pick. What the actual heck was going on? Tim distinctly remembered, well... dying. What was he doing in the Tower? Conner and he had mostly retired after getting Joel and had not set foot there for years. 

Bad habits die hard, because his first reflex was to open his eyes and assess the situation. Definitely a bad reflex, and he couldn’t wait to complain to Conner about it. 

Conner. Tim sat up quickly in the medical cot, immediately regretting it. He frantically looked around until he saw his husband within arm's reach. Immensely relieved, he collapsed into Conner’s chest, embracing him and shutting out the world. Nothing could go wrong as long as Conner was there.   

“Hum... Tim? You’re alright, dude?” Conner’s voice was filled with surprise rather than concern, which was odd. Tim braced himself before opening his eyes again. His eyes doubled in size when he saw Cassie and Bart in front of him. They looked so young; they looked like the kids they were a lifetime ago.  

Conner’s hand hesitated on his shoulder.  

“You were hit by some magic during the fight, Tim,” Conner said gently, but without the familiar softness Tim had grown used to in their decades together. “We had to call Zatanna, and she took care of it.”  

A heavy feeling settled in Tim’s gut when he saw Zatanna’s concerned expression. She sat in a nearby chair, she met his gaze while explaining, “You’re seventeen. You’re Red Robin, and you were fighting with the Teen Titans. You’ve been asleep for a couple of hours because of a spell designed to destabilize you.” 

Seventeen. What was Zatanna saying… his brain was reaching overload, figuring things out in a bang. He was seventeen. Oh God, he was seventeen. His life had not been… his life was what? The result of the spell? 

Tim had a newfound appreciation for Bruce’s distrust of magic.  

“Well, it worked,” Tim mused. He felt so lost. A minute ago, he had a family. He had a husband. He had Conner.  

And now? Now he only had a hellish headache, worried friends, and a tense Conner in his arms, not used to loving embraces from Tim. That made sense, unfortunately. Tim had never been physically affectionate before dating Conner. He’d kept a clear personal space when he was younger, a space that was now non-existent.   

No wonder Conner was so confused. He was Tim's friend, not Tim’s affectionate partner. Tim not-so-much-for-hugs-and-casual-touches friend. And only that.   

Pulling away from Conner felt like ripping out his own heart. With the ease of someone who’s used to people fussing over him, Tim ignored his friends' concerns and focused on Zatanna.  

He heard her explain how the spell pushed its victim into a utopian reality designed just for them from a distance. He heard the light banter from his friends but ignored it all. They did not understand. They just couldn’t. 

Zatanna hadn’t moved, still wearing that infuriatingly pitying look. She knew. Somehow, she knew exactly what the spell had done to Tim. The sheer damage of it. Not hours, not days or even months. Decades. 

His husband, his son, his entire life reaped away from him in an instant. And it had to live it all again. 

*** 

On the surface, Tim was fine. He was better than fine.  

In fact, he was thriving, having achieved a consistent sleep schedule for the first time, to Alfred's delight. And if his siblings did not think he knew about the pool for how long he was going to keep it, they were sorely mistaken. They had digitalized it, the amateurs. 

Tim marveled at the peace that eight hours of sleep could bring.  

Dick stopped mothering him during his weekends at the Manor. Bruce expressed pride in him – Tim was never going to live that down. After three weeks, Duke clapped his back and offered to join him on his morning run. Stephanie, surprisingly, didn't sulk too much about their all-night text sessions ending. Damian praised his strength of character over brunch. Cass gave him a fierce hug – probably more on-point about his real state of mind than the rest of his family. Jason casually commented on healthy coping mechanisms during patrol, the hypocrite. Alfred no longer rationed his caffeine intake, a shift made easier by Tim's genuine desire to sleep.  

As collateral damage, decaf’ became his new normal. Well, omelet, eggs, and all. 

Titans Tower was more of the same. As soon as they realized he did not want to talk about his experience, Tim’s friends redirected their banter toward his sudden regular disappearance for eight hours straight during the actual night. Bart put on a show checking if he had been replaced by an evil doppelganger every night he bid them goodnight first. Cassie joked about looking good for dates – which was closer to the truth than she could guess.  

Conner was the only one who did not joke about it. Nor did he make any comment – not where Tim could hear him anyway. He was concerned, that much was clear from the slight frown he had when he looked at Tim. So far, he had refrained from any reaction face with Tim 2.0, save for the awkwardness between them every time Tim inadvertently initiated a tactile touch.  

Conner silently endured, or something. 

Tim was trying, okay? Trying to revert to the aloof version of him they were familiar with, to remember that Conner was not his husband and did not welcome this form of affection from him. But it was hard. God, was it hard. 

His dreams offered solace. It was the only thing that was making it tolerable. His blessed hours of sleep allowed him to be his true self – at least the version of himself he wanted to be.  

He quickly learned to control his dreams and use them to preserve his memories, resorting to sleep medication to maintain his sleep cycle.  

It took him some time, but his learning skills had always been on the roof. It was not that difficult to learn to control his dreams. Tim used it as an outlet to keep his fleeting memories alive. He resorted using sleep medication after his first fails attempts, his sleeping cycle so badly fucked from years of abuse. He had no other choice.  

Was it healthy? Probably not. Was it necessary? Absolutely. Was he doing everything in his power to keep it under wraps? Above and beyond. 

The only real concern was Conner. Despite Tim's apparent well-being, Conner had initially voiced his worries to Dick, who dismissed them when Tim seemed fine – which Tim knew this because Dick had asked him if Conner was okay. 

It happened during the first weeks, when Tim struggled with the sadness of his left-behind life. He was frustrated and tired, having to deal with the karma fallout from a messed-up pineal gland. 

Then Tim became the picture of a well-rested, fully functional adult. Conner's warnings were ignored – much to the half-alien's chagrin, who sulked for days. The unusual touchiness might have raised alarms – because this was even more out of character for Tim than sleeping soundly at night, but Conner kept it to himself. 

Which was puzzling. Tim had more pressing issues than Conner's behavior. Like maintaining a constant supply of sleeping pills.  

*** 

The main problem of sedatives was that the body would build a tolerance to them over time.  

Tim had been cautious. He started with low doses, switched active ingredients, and scheduled regular weaning periods, even. This approach worked for over a year, but he still had to increase his dosage frequently. Eventually, he reached the point where no legitimate doctor could prescribe what he needed to maintain his keep-me-sane sleep schedule. Which was a problem.  

In Gotham, illegitimate doctors were plentiful. Unfortunately, Tim Drake-Wayne couldn’t expect to keep a lid on his pill habit going through them. However, Red Robin could absolutely target specific drug dealers, monitor their supply chains to assure product quality, and appropriate merchandise samples before the police arrived on site.  

He was toying with the line, he knew it. But receiving a lecture from Jason Todd of all people was intolerable. 

“What the actual fuck do you think you’re doing, Replacement!” 

However, today, hearing Jason refer to him as a second choice grated Tim's nerves with renewed vigor. The animal had followed him home, breaking the unspoken rule that nobody entered his space without invitation, a rule Tim had enforced for years with his family. Just because Red Hood witnessed him taking down a drug ring in his territory that night – the ring operated from in Crime Alley – and had opinions on how Tim handled the situation and the illegal product he found at the scene.  

Tims’ first, second, and third instinct to just ignore him while getting out of uniform was a mistake. Not only was Jason now furious, he was also in full gear and looming above him.  And between Tim and any exit.  

The anger in Jason's voice and the physical threat he posed were clearly reminiscent of their initial encounter at Titan Towers. Despite Tim's belief that he had moved past it, his body's reaction suggested otherwise. 

Breath short and pulse racing, Tim stepped back on pure instinct. Sensing his unease, Jason stopped raging immediately, moved away, and removed his helmet. 

“Tim.” Okay, that was new. The tentative tone as well. “Tim, are you okay?” 

“You mean, in general?” He retorted curtly, trying to get his physical responses under control. “Or regarding the specific B&E and near-assault going on?”  

Which was mean. It was nothing unusual regarding Jason’s interactions with his family - on a good day. But this. But this hit too close to home. He needed to gain control of the conversation fast.  

Jason placed the helmet on a nearby bench and looked intently at him. 

“Dude, I saw you take some of the pills at the warehouse. And I know it was not the first time, okay. Why would that not be concerning?” 

Tim was literally sheeting. What did the asshole mean, not the first time? What had he seen, scratch that, what did he think he knew? 

“How long have you been spying on me?” Tim spat. “Who do you think you are, fucking Bruce ?” 

The low blow landed exactly where intended, causing Jason to step back. He quickly composed himself and took a deep breath before pushing his point. 

“My mother was an addict, Tim.” What was it with the newfound fascination for his first name? “I know what addiction looks like, and in these situations, appearances often reflect reality. Even for you.”  

So Jason knew. Maybe not everything, but enough to be an issue. Given his determined expression and personal history, as well as his uncanny ability to make a pest of himself where Tim was concerned, it seemed unlikely that Tim's preplanned explanation of ‘testing the merchandise to uncover the supplier’ excuse was going to fly.  

Well, game over then.  

Tim sat down abruptly, his head in his hands. It’s not like he had expected to maintain this indefinitely.   

The increasing tolerance, for one, was reaching concerning levels. He was aware that he was not coping well with the aftereffects of the spell. He just... He had thought it might become easier over time, that spending more time back in his teenage years, in his so-called 'real life', the easier he would move past the happy memories.   

But that was the heart of the problem, wasn’t it? His fucking life. How could his fucked-up ‘real life’ compare to the memory of a semi-functional family, a partner love, a beloved son for whom he could be everything Jake and Bruce never were for him. 

“I know, okay.” Tim finally admitted, feeling tired to his bones. “I’ve tried to keep it under control, but at some point, I don’t know…” He could not end his sentence, using a vague hand gesture to convey his point. 

Jason seated himself carefully beside him. Not quite touching him, but closer than usual, which surprised Tim. Because if Tim valued and enforced personal space, then Jason version of it was to keep a bloody security perimeter.  

Even Alfred had to avoid unintentionally brushing against him, although Jason’s response to physical proximity from the butler was more likely to be a quick withdrawal and sarcastic remark rather than the aggressive reactions reserved for other family members.  

“I know, as a matter of fact. I’m friends with Roy, remember?” He added quietly. 

Tim’s eyebrow rose of its own volition. Tim raised an eyebrow. “Friends? Is that what we are calling it these days?” 

So maybe he was testing his luck a little bit here. Best-case scenario, Jason was going to murder him for implying that he could have feelings, especially romantic ones. Worst case scenario, he might get an admission of guilt and trade the gossip with their siblings to divert attention from his self-medication.  

In response, Jason pushed him away - without breaking any bones. Definitely an admission. 

They remained silent for a while, but not in an uncomfortable way. Staring ahead, Jason said, "I'm not going to pressure you for an explanation. I am not Bruce," he clarified, his smirk contrasting with his serious tone.  

Still avoiding eye contact with Tim, he continued. "I just." He sighed deeply. "I understand, Tim. And I know you prefer to handle your own problems. But I don’t think it’s something you should try to manage on your own. Not this.”  

"Well, I did try to handle it myself. I don’t think it was a sounding success." The admission felt good, a weight lifted from his chest. Perhaps Jason had a point.   

In true Red Hood fashion, the moment he sensed weakness, Jason kept pushing. “You know Dinah is a therapist and a vigilante, too. She actually gets it. You could talk to her, see how that feels.”    

As far as Jason’s ideas went, this one was not the worst he ever had – admittedly, the bar was quite low. How Jason of all people was the one suggesting therapy, however, was stunning. Roy's influence was definitely showing here. Good for his homicidal raging brother, let’s fully embrace being the most fucked-up then.  

“Interesting. Is all this emotional insight coming from your friend Roy? Do you usually know so much about your friend's maternal figure, or is it just Roy? Because you are such close friends ?”  

“Don’t push your luck, Replacement.” And really, the relief Tim felt at hearing the nickname was a testament to how unusual that day had been.  

“Whatever you decide to do, you should do it for yourself,” Jason advised him. “If you need additional motivation, remember that there are people who care about you. Granted, some of them are shit at showing it, but they do care.”  

Tim realized something important. He had spent over a year pursuing a fantasy because he could not stand his life. But by doing so, he had only exacerbated his downward spiral, causing him to withdraw from genuine interactions with his friends and family and operate on autopilot. 

When was the last time he had done something he genuinely enjoyed? Laughed freely? Experience something new or just something fun? 

Admittedly, his uneasiness had begun long before the butchered fight. The spell merely acted as the catalyst that rendered the situation untenable. Did this mean that the spell was not the root problem? That he could improve the situation?  

Above anything else, Tim was a problem solver. He had addressed the symptoms – his life was better when he was asleep - and had solved it with sleeping pills. The next step was to find the underlying problem, and to throw everything he had at it, Robin style.  

This he could do. 

Chapter Text

In all aspects, it was an ordinary day for Tim. He was leaving Dinah’s office—a common occurrence now—and was walking quickly on the sidewalk, focused solely on their last session together. Surprisingly, Jason's advice had been sound, even though Jason had told him in no uncertain terms that seeking external help – Dinah or others – was conditional to him not spilling the beans to Bruce and Dick regarding Tim’s pills habit. Once an asshole... 

As the deadline for Jason’s ultimatum approached, Tim had called Dinah and spent almost an hour on inconsequential small talk before mustering the courage to ask her for a session. Either her years of living with Oliver had left her with endless patience, or Roy had called her ahead, but she had let him ramble until he felt ready to tell her why he really had called.  

Or perhaps it was a therapist thing, as she used the same method during their sessions. She typically allowed him to share his action plans towards his 'becoming-a-functional-human-being' goal, goading him toward mindful conversation with timely silences and pointed comments.  

One of her initial comments was about involving Zatanna. Or, more specifically, directly asking her about the intention behind the spell intent. Something something, Tim’s unconscious repression something something. Part of the process, Dinah had said. Repression was part of Tim’s process, okay? 

Zatanna only confirmed what Tim had already deduced: the spell created a fantasy world that played out its victim's most cherished wishes and idealized life. Nothing new to Tim indeed, but he had to concede that hearing Zatanna explicitly state that Tim’s deepest wish was to be loved without measure and surrounded by his entire family still had been kind of a shock. 

Thus, regular sessions became a routine, at least providing Tim with much-needed time for himself. He chose to walk to and from Dinah's practice, extending his alone time before reaching his mode of transportation for the day - being CEO of a billion-dollar company had its perks when your therapist was living in another city.  

Today was no different until Tim's eyes fell on the storefront next to him. The unassuming children’s toy shop, which had been on Tim's path for months, caught his attention because its front window displayed a blue and white stuffed whale very familiar to Tim. It had been Joel’s favorite, passed down to his own son. The sight stopped Tim in his tracks.  

Talking to Dinah had gone a long way to helping Tim understand how living a fantasy life in his dreams was easier than putting himself out there to achieve what he wanted, putting himself at risk in the process. Putting himself in harm's way to protect the innocent, no problem? Risking emotional backlash by going after what he wanted, not so much.  

There had been intense discussions about his lack of control over many things, such as Conner's feelings and the emotional constipation of his family for another. Dinah calmly pointed out his lack of romantic interest in his best friend prior to the spell and Jason’s unexpected behavior when confronting him as counterexamples, emphasizing that asking for what he needed was the first step.  

The working theory was that Tim desired to be loved, and Conner just happened to be the person he trusted most when the spell hit, so Tim’s fantasy latched on to this best friend by lack of another option more than anything. Which, aouch.  

And if Jason could set aside homicidal urges and deeply ingrained stubbornness to support Tim, he might listen if Tim asked him to reconcile with Bruce. Believing the latter part was still a work in progress.  

Anyhow, Tim understood Dinah's subtle reminders to ground himself in his daily life and separate it from his dreams. Intellectually, it made sense. But faced with the plush reminder of his son, Tim immediately entered the shop and bought it.  

Upon returning to his apartment that night, the soft toy found a place on Tim's bed, where nobody would see it and question why he kept an infant's toy within reach for his newly regained sleepless nights. Or so he thought.   

A couple of weeks later, during a movie night at his place with his Young Justice friends - a tradition inspired by his dreamt life that he brought into reality with Dinah encouragement, Bart, Cassie, and Conner accepted with enthusiasm, even if finding a time suitable for all was a monthly renewed challenge Tim tackled happily - there was a small incident.   

One of those nights got out of hand, and a playful tackle fight between Bart and Tim resulted in Conner being covered in various flavors of soda. Still catching his breath, Tim sent him to his bedroom to find clean clothes - everyone knew about Tim's tendency to adopt any oversized clothing left behind by their owners.   

Conner returned wearing a mix of his and Dick’s old clothes, sporting a slight frown. It took Tim a few minutes to remember Joel's stuffed toy and realize it was the reason for Conner's reaction. Nothing else in his bedroom could have disturbed his best friend, he cleaned up before their arrival.  

Things were still awkward between them because, despite his efforts, Tim couldn’t - and wasn’t trying hard to if he was honest - stop reaching out to his best friend for comfort. Conner had adapted to it and never commented, much to Tim’s relief.   

Tim assumed Conner would dismiss the kid's toy as another new weird habit of his and put the thought away. He had a tackle game to win.  

*** 

The grand hall of Metropolis Regency Hotel was overwhelming, to say the least. Conner stood near the edge of the room, feeling completely out of place amidst the glittering chandeliers and lush floral arrangements. Every corner of the hall buzzed with soft conversation and the clinking of crystal glasses. The elegantly dressed crowd moved with an ease that he couldn’t quite mimic, and he felt like a fish out of water.  

Conner took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He was here as Lois’s plus-one since Clark was held up elsewhere, but this was far beyond his comfort zone. He glanced around the room, hoping to find a familiar face. His wandering gaze found his best friend.  

This was absolutely Tim scene. He navigated the crowd with the ease and grace of someone who had attended such events since childhood. His neatly tailored suit and hard-worked confident demeanor in place, he was doing his job: shaking hands, exchanging pleasantries with influential figures, and furthering business deals with a charming smile. 

As if sensing his discomfort – more likely seeing Conner’s deer-in-the-light expression while cornered by a small gathering of old ladies - Tim made his way over to him, a wide smile on his face.   

“Hello, Conner,” he said, his voice filled with genuine warmth. “It’s a pleasure to see you here.”  

Conner forced a smile in return, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. Tim’s presence was all it took to redirect the unwanted attention away from Conner. He witnessed his friend dodge the loaded question regarding the company's financial health and his current relationship status with practiced ease. 

After interminably long minutes of polite conversation, Tim finally managed to extract them both and clapped Conner on the back. "How are you holding up?" Conner forced a smile, glancing around the room. "I feel like a fish out of water, to be honest. Remind me again why I agreed to do this?” 

Tim chuckled. “I highly doubt Lois gave you an out. But you fit in just fine. Everyone here is just as nervous as you are. They just hide it better.” His smile widened, a touch of fondness in his eyes. “Practice.” 

Conner couldn’t help but appreciate how Tim always knew the right thing to say. Together, they ventured back into the throng of guests, Tim leading the way with his practiced ease. Conner followed, trying to absorb some of Tim's confidence on the way. Practice, Tim said. Come on, Conner had practice working at public crowds, just not... as a civilian was all.  

When they reached a group closer to their age, Conner felt a bit more at ease as the conversation flowed naturally, with Tim effortlessly steering it toward safe topics. Conner had the distinct feeling Tim chose this group because they were, well, friendly. Friendlier than the old ladies who liked to comment on Conner’s rented outfit they had just left at least.   

It was then that Conner’s attention was drawn to a beautiful woman who approached Tim with a smile. “You're Tim Drake, aren’t you?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with interest.  

“That's right," Tim replied with his usual charm. “And you are?”  

“Emily,” she introduced herself, extending a perfectly manicured hand. “I've heard so much about you. It's not often I meet someone who can charm a room like this.” She added, her voice smooth and confident.  

Conner suppressed a smirk at Tim's modest response of doing his best, but his amusement turned into surprise as Emily leaned in closer, clearly flirting with Tim. Conner watched as Tim's expression shifted, a mix of confidence and something else - perhaps discomfort.  

Oblivious to Tim’s reaction, Emily leaned in slightly into his personal space, her gaze never leaving his face, and added quietly, “I must say, you're even more impressive in person. Perhaps we could find a quieter corner to talk? I'd love to get to know you better.”  

Conner could not help but snort at the cheesy line. He had been accosted as Superboy by women before, but at least his superhero persona was an endless flirt at that time. Tim, on the other hand, was nothing if not polite, but so clearly not interested.   

Suddenly, Tim grabbed Conner’s arm tightly and practically plastered himself against him, his body language screaming possessiveness. Conner’s eyes widened in shock, but he quickly realized what was happening. Tim was using him as a shield, a reflexive move from their deeply ingrained dynamics and his new tactile habits with him.  

It took Conner a moment to process everything. He felt a rush of conflicting emotions -pride at being Tim's chosen protector, confusion at the intensity of Tim’s reaction, and a deep underlying affection for his friend.   

But there was something more – Tim froze suddenly, realizing the position he had put them both. Most of the people surrounding them looked at them with surprise, while Emily was seething in rage. Well, from the outside, it did look like Tim had refrained Conner from a jealous outburst at Emily's advances.  

So, okay, maybe Tim had overreacted. But the level of panic he was achieving was a bit much. It’s not like Conner was going to make a scene because his friend had decided to get a little handsy.  

Before he could reassure Tim, his friend excused himself and all but sprinted away, leaving Conner to mingle on his own.  Yeah, no way was Conner going to choose overbearing strangers over his best friend in a frenzy.  

*** 

Conner knew exactly how panicked Tim was by tracking his heartbeat. Tim couldn't put up a strong front this time, but as a Bat, he always had a contingency plan. Burying his face in his crossed arms, Tim grunted. Facing the source of his panic wouldn't help, but he couldn't send Conner away. So, he opted for avoidance instead.  

Conner approached Tim cautiously. Tim's heart raced and his breathing became shallow, panicking as dreamt memories mingled with the reality of what had just happened. Tim had latched at Conner without even thinking, years of keeping unwanted attention away using Conner presence ingrained in him by a lifetime of practice, damn it!  

What was his friend going to think, now? Overwhelmed by Conner's presence, Tim still couldn't ground himself. Nor send him away.  

"Okay, Tim. I’m... I’m going to get help, okay?” Conner clearly realized he was the cause of Tim's stress. Stuck in non-verbal mode, Tim cowered in the corner of the men's bathroom, unable to reassure Conner or explain the misunderstanding. Unable to express how sorry he was. 

With a strong 'whoosh', Conner sped away. Left alone, something broke further in Tim. Conner had always been his rock, the person he trusted most, who never hurt him. Now, Conner was gone because of Tim.  

His jacket was soaked with tears when he became aware of a presence next to him. His head rose to be immediately faced with his concerned best friend. Tim tried to talk, to explain, but Conner stopped him, presenting him with the last thing Tim expected from him: Joel’s stuffed toy.  

Tim froze. Mistaking his reaction for rejection, Conner made a short, dejected ‘oh’ and tried to put away the toy. Tim reached with trembling hands and stopped him. Touching the soft material gave him something to focus on while he emerged from his own head.  

“Thanks,” was the only thing Tim could say. He didn't know how to begin explaining his reaction. Conner stayed silent, sitting with him on the floor, a silent presence for as long as Tim needed. Grateful beyond words, he allowed his head to rest on the strong shoulder near him and closed his eyes.  

Maybe everything was going to be alright after all. 

*** 

Something was definitely not right with Tim. And Conner was not referring to his sudden regressive interest in children's toys, nor to his too-good-to-be-true sleeping habits. Okay, Conner was definitively including the regular 8 hears nights into the weird shit what was happening, and damn Dick for not listening to him when he first brought it up. 

Something was not right with Tim, and Conner was losing his mind because it was his fault somehow.  

Conner was initially surprised by Tim’s new tactile version of himself, but quickly adjusted, noticing it mostly affected him. Neither Bart nor Cassie experienced the absent-mindedly affectionate side of their friend that emerged when Tim was stressed or too tired to be fully aware of his environment. It seemed to occur only when he couldn't control it, and only with Conner.  

Conner was fine with it. More than fine, even. He had always relied on his sense of touch more than most people – because, hello, tactile telekinesis – and understood not everyone needed physical contact to feel okay. Specifically, the Bat adjacent Robin on his team, who had spent years expertly dodging casual touches.   

Until recently. 

Tonight was something else entirely. Because this time, Conner clearly was the problem. He tracked Tim into the men's bathroom and found him in the midst of a panic attack. He tried to help, to approach him, and Tim’s reaction to his presence was so bad that Conner felt his heart break.  

Conner had gotten so used to Tim's casual touches now. It gutted him not being able to touch Tim when his friend was distressed. He thought about getting Bruce to help, but hesitated. Conner wanted to help, to be the one who helped Tim.  He then remembered the stuffed whale he saw in Tim's bed a couple of weeks before. 

Back then, he did not say anything, adding it to the growing list of oddities from Tim. He did not forget about it. Now, it appeared to be the right call. Tim buried himself in the plushie and regained control of his breathing and his heartbeat in a few minutes. 

Tim was in no condition to return to the gala, his face still hidden in his jacket. Conner made an executive decision and quickly texted Lois about an emergency he needed to handle, prepared to deal with the consequences later when she discovered it wasn't a Superboy issue.  

"Tim?" he said quietly. “Let me take you back home, okay?” He extended his hand slowly, allowing Tim to refuse contact if necessary. Tim made a small sound of acknowledgment that Conner only understood thanks to their years of working together and decrypting Bat onomatopoeia. 

Leaving the gala discreetly was easy with Conner’s speed, but tucking Tim into bed should not have been. Robin had never allowed himself to be handled by anyone while conscious. As long as he was conscious, his Robin was always in charge of his own body, even with broken limbs. And Tim had definitely been conscious for the proceedings. Yet, Tim, although not looking at Conner once, let him put him to bed and stay until he fell asleep without a word.  

So sue him, Conner was freaking out, and the person currently breaking into Tim's apartment was not helping . 

After checking on Tim, who was still asleep, Connor quietly shut the door behind him and proceeded toward the main room. There, he found Jason Todd – of all Bats – in the living room, ransacking Tim’s cabinets. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Conner whispered at him, aggravated. Startled by Connor's sudden approach, Jason stepped back and almost broke the coffee table with his haste to retreat. Connor intervened to prevent any noise that might wake up Tim.   

“Oh, it’s you.” Noticing the low volume theme of the evening, Jason kept his voice low. The relief in it, however, made Conner furious.  

He pushed Jason into a corner, all but growling. “What. Are. You. Doing?” To his credit, Jason remained composed 

“Okay, Cro-Magnon, let’s chill.” He responded. “I heard something happened with Tim tonight, so I came to check on him.” 

Internally sighing about the noisiness of Tim’s family, Conner crossed his arms and raised a single eyebrow, waiting for Jason to elaborate on the obvious missing part of his story. He waited for a beat, two, and gave up. He learnt a long time ago not to try to outwait a Bat. 

“And how exactly does checking on your brother involve going through his stuff, exactly?” Did Tim's brother take him for a complete fool? 

Jason had the good grace to appear contrite for a second. He scratched his head, his tell sign of being uncomfortable, before physically deflating. He muttered under his breath. “Boy, Tim’s going to kill me.” 

“By my count, that would be karma.” Conner retorqued. 

The following conversation was uncomfortable for both of them. Apparently, Jason had been searching for sleeping pills that Tim had used to self-medicate, concerned that tonight episode indicated a relapse in the addictive habits he was currently working on with Dinah.  

Okay. What was news to Conner. And a lot to take on. Mainly because Jason's explanation was long-winded and often interrupted by threats if Conner kept asking questions.  But that was the gist of it.  

The more Jason talked, the worse Conner felt about being the worst best friend in history. He knew Tim wasn't okay, but instead of helping or urging Dick to notice, he let it slide. Because he liked the physical affection from Tim. And he did not want it to end. 

What an egotistical asshole he had been. He reassured Jason he had no intention of leaving Tim alone tonight, allowing the vigilante to resume his patrol, and then returned to Tim's bedroom for the remainder of the night.  

Fortunately, Tim was still asleep despite the commotion, the toy safely tucked under his chin. The sight was adorable, if Conner was honest. Resigning himself to long hours of vigil, Conner resumed his place on Tim’s bed, not quite touching him but close enough that he hoped his friend could feel he was not left alone. 

“Kon...” Tim's voice was barely above a breath. Conner's heart jumped in his chest, thinking he had woken Tim. But a quick look and a check of Tim’s heartbeat confirmed that he was still sleeping soundly, probably dreaming. 

Unsure, Conner put a hand on Tim's shoulder to reassure them both that he was not going anywhere. Tim’s frown softened with the gesture, and Conner smiled softly. Then he heard Tim quietly add. “I love you, Kon.” 

He froze.  

Chapter Text

Tim woke up with mixed feelings. On one hand, he felt awful, with rumpled clothes and a headache. On the other hand, he was in his own bed, with Joel’s stuffed toy beside him. He recalled Conner bringing him the toy and helping him back to his home.   

Without the panic from last night, he rationalized that he had overreacted. After everything he and Conner had experienced over the years, their friendship was strong enough to handle some awkward and misplaced public reactions. One thing was clear to Tim, though; he needed to explain the spell's effect on him and his recent behavior to Conner. It affected him, too, and it was not fair to Conner to keep him in the dark. 

With this resolution, Tim got out of bed. He considered changing for a hot second, before deciding against it. He heard noise coming from the kitchen. If Conner was still there, he’d rather pull the band-aid before chickening out of his resolution. 

True to hearing, Conner was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast with bread in the toaster, eggs on the stove, and bacon on the counter next to a juice box.  

Tim hesitated at the kitchen entrance. With his enhanced senses, surely Conner knew Tim was awake and right behind him. What if Tim was wrong? What if it was too late to salvage their relationship? He felt his chest constrict painfully. 

As if figuring out Tim’s rising dread, Conner chose this exact moment to turn around, eyes wide. He let go of the cooking utensils and went to Tim, gently resting his hands on Tim’s shoulders. 

“How are you feeling?” His tone was as gentle as his hands. Tim melted in his friend's touch and strengthened his will; he had to come clean. Tim's seriousness must have shown, because Conner took a deep breath and stared at him. “I think we need to talk,” he said. 

Tim nodded.  

They occupied themselves with their breakfast and made quick work of the food in heavy silence. 

“So...” they started at the same time. Conner blushed and signaled him to speak. Tim steered himself and decided to start with an apology. 

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he tried.  

For a moment, Conner looked like a deer in the headlights, before asking for clarification. “You’re sorry about what, exactly?” 

Tim shrugged. “All of it, I guess. My behavior with Emily, the panic attack, everything...” 

“Hey.” Conner stopped him. “You don’t have to apologize about any of it.”  

Tim looked up at him, a little bit lost.  

“Really,” Conner insisted. “We’re friends, right? I’m here for you.” He hesitated before continuing. “But... I would like to understand what happened, if it’s okay with you.” 

Tim did explain to him. The spell effect, experiencing a fantasy life with a family of his own. How he had lived an entire life during the few hours the spell affected him. How he couldn’t just forget everything and rein in instincts that were decades old for him. 

At the end, he still had one last confession to make. By the look on Conner's face, his friend had already realized what Tim could not voice out loud. Conner was far from stupid; he must have realized how Tim's weird impulses focused on him. From there, the jump to whom exactly Tim was married to in his fantasy was not that difficult. 

But then Conner surprised him by addressing another matter entirely. 

“Yesterday, you were sleeping and...” Conner began before quickly adding, blushing deeply. “..and you said you loved me.” 

Or not unrelated, after all. 

Tim's cheeks were on fire. “Yeah, sorry about that... Look, when I sleep, my mind tends to drag me back to my old life.” Conner's eyes shoot up sharply.  

Tim internally cursed and corrected himself. “I mean, back to the memories. Dinah says that the spell did build on whatever already existed. And you’re my best friend, the person I trust most, so it made sense that the spell would focus on you... anyway, it’s not about you, you know.” 

Tim was trying for reassurance, there. To let Conner know that nothing had to change between them. They could remain friends and trust each other as they always had. Tim just needed to move past the spell. To let go of the idea of them being more . He could do it. He could do it because he cared enough about Conner. 

However, his best friend looked almost disappointed. “Oh. Well, if it’s not about me...” He scratched his head, avoiding Tim’s gaze. 

Something clicked in Tim’s mind. “Do you... want it to be about you?” He asked softly. 

Conner kept his eyes on the wall without answering. Tim worried he had misread the situation – damn it, not again – until he noticed Conner's blush creeping toward Conner’s ears. 

Oh.  

He stayed still, barely breathing, afraid of disrupting the moment. It felt like a dream. 

“I don’t know. Maybe, yeah...” Conner started. “I care about you, Tim. You know that,” he continued. “And it’s not like you being closer these last months actually bothered me. It was nice.” 

Tim was at a loss. On one hand, having Conner open to the possibility of a romantic relationship was everything he dreamt – literally – about. On the other hand, starting a relationship with his best friend out of pity was not an ideal way to build a future together. 

He turned Conner’s head gently to meet his eyes. “Conner, I appreciate it. But we can't just start dating because you think it would help me.”  

Conner's friendship was too important to him to put it in jeopardy.  

Tim added softly, "I'm okay with being just your friend." Seeing Conner frown, he amended, "I'll be okay with it, that's what I'm working on with Dinah. So we can get back to what we were before."  

Conner stared at him for a whole minute. His gaze became intense, making it hard for Tim to maintain eye contact. But he forced himself to, realizing this conversation was crucial for their friendship.  

In typical Superboy fashion, Conner broke through every defense in place. 

“I don’t want to go back, Tim. I like feeling close to you. I like you reaching out when you need it.” He took a breath, uncertainty in his eyes. “I mean, if that’s what you want...” 

Tim realized Conner was right. There was no going back. Things had already changed. Conner was asking him to acknowledge it and was willing to explore it together. Wasn’t that what Dinah had been emphasizing? Not letting fear hold him back but living his life fully.  

How could Tim refuse that?  

He smiled.  

***  

In retrospect, inviting Conner to San Francisco’s Harbor for ice cream as their first date had not been Tim’s best idea.   

The rationale behind it was sound, mind you. Dinah consistently encouraged him to create new positive memories to replace those from his imagined life. Tim figured that recreating his first date with Conner in his real life was the way to move forward. 

He should have anticipated his bloody brain oscillating between the two versions of reality he experienced. He should have expected the strangeness because Tim always felt out of sync, trying to recall whether they had already commented on the old carousel or if he just remembered it.  

Conner's tardiness exacerbated the situation. Although it was not his fault - he had to stop a robbery on the way - it gave Tim way too much time to reminisce about his memories of this place, which had been a frequent dating location for him and Conner. 

Tim realized how much of a phenomenal bad idea his plan to recreate their perfect date was even before Conner arrived. However, what could he do? Leave, and let Conner alone for their first real date? Call it off, and send the wrong message? Or push through, Bat style, hopping to salvage the moment? 

However, whatever dating Gods were around that day, they had it out for them. The awkwardness became problematic, and they were both as tense as if they were on a mission. As Tim cycled through his contingency plans for the outing, it began to rain.  

The situation quickly escalated to the harbor being flooded with waves, necessitating emergency services intervention. Not really date material at that point. 

Between the situation and the weirdness, they both agreed—perhaps too readily—that changing into their hero personas and participating in the rescue efforts was the best course of action.  

Overall, their first date was a bust. Nonetheless, Tim was not concerned. There would be other opportunities to create pleasant memories together in the future, right? 

Right. 

***  

Their second date was at a restaurant. Conner had chosen the venue, likely cautious after the harbor disaster – not that Tim could blame him, honestly.  

The restaurant was nice, a cozy family-owned place with enough space between the tables to give them privacy. The food was even nicer, home-made taste reminding Tim of Alfred’s cooking, and the portions generous enough to cater to Conner’s appetite. 

Everything was going fine, the conversation flowing between them between their usual banter, and casual touching – hands, knees, Conner's hand in the small of Tim’s back when he pulled out his chair like a gentleman – going steady. Tim had great hopes for the evening, going as far as fantasizing about a kiss good night, fueled by the warmth in Conner's gaze and the easy smile on his face. 

A smile that completely disappeared when dessert was brought to the table. For a quick second, Tim feared the worst – because a no-go on Tiramisu was going to be a deal-breaker for their relationship, seriously. Conner looked pained and opened his mouth, just as Tim's emergency ringtone started.   

Tim's hand reached for his phone by reflex, a question in his eyes. Conner nodded gravely and only said, “You’re going to want to answer that.” Whatever it was, it was the cause of Conner’s pinched expression over the plate before him. Not about the tiramisu, then, what a relief.  

Tim picked up his mobile phone, saw the name flashing on the screen, and felt a twinge of unease. Answering the call, he tried to keep his voice steady.  

“Hey, Cassie, what's up?” he said, his eyes meeting Conner's.  

Cassie's voice crackled through the phone, filled with urgency. “Tim, we need you and Conner! Bart and I are stuck in a mess with some rogue metahumans. It's kind of urgent.” 

Bart's rapid speech followed, barely decipherable. “We have it under control, Cassie is exaggerating. There’s no need to cut your date short. No, really. It’s like only a few meta attacking the bridge, we can totally handle it.” 

A smacking sound resonated through the call, startling Conner from across the table. “We do not have it under control! Shut up, Bart.” Cassie continued. “Look, I’m sorry to call you, but there are civilians everywhere, and these guys mean business. It’s an all-hands-on-deck situation.” 

Tim did not need to think about it. “Alright, we'll be there as soon as we can,” he said, ending the call. He stood up, reaching for his jacket, and looked at Conner. Who had not moved and was hunched over his untouched dessert plate. 

“I guess that means date night is over.” Conner's voice was low and laden with frustration, surprising Tim. 

“I'm sorry, Conner, but they need us,” Tim replied, maybe a little too short. “You know that.”  

Conned nodded curtly, finally getting up with the program. 

The cozy ambiance of the restaurant seemed to mock their abrupt departure. Tim quickly paid the bill, his mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. He knew Conner understood how their duty was always going to come first. It’s not like Tim was happy about the situation, but he could not do anything about it, so why dwell on it?  

The silence between them while they hurried to the scene spoke volumes. And really, Tim could understand Conner’s sentiment. But there was not even a question on his mind about where the priority should be. How could Conner even hesitate? 

His version of Conner never had. 

***  

The next date should have had a better ending. It didn’t.  

Nor did the one after that, either. 

***  

There was always something . 

Conner was ready to break something from the sheer frustration of the failed dates. There was a clear pattern to it: they would manage to find a time when they were both available – which was always a challenge on its own, with their respective familial and professional obligations, they would agree on something to do – which was not easy either, because Tim either had strong ideas about it or flat out refused to contribute, and then... then something would happened. 

The list was pretty extensive at this point: emergency calls, villain attack, natural disaster at their date location, last-minute annulment due to high-stakes mission, fellow hero rescue, Wayne Enterprise urgent business, Batman's last fit over them dating - take your pick. It also included unwillingly uncovering malicious plans – dates in Gotham were banished after the 3rd time Tim had stumbled other one of Gotham’s rogue covered operations while they were out. 

Conner knew Bart and Cassie had an ongoing bingo game of the reasons their dates were failing. He was starting to think that they were in on it, while Tim – yes, Bat trained Tim Drake – said he was paranoid. Which, maybe, but like the proverb said: it’s not paranoia if it’s true! 

As a result, Conner's level of frustration was on the roof. It was not really the failed dates themselves; he totally agreed with Tim that it was part of the hero gig and all that. It was more that they had been dating for months now, and they still had to actually kiss! 

At first, Conner had been the first one to want to take things slow. There was being friends, adding closeness and affectionate touching to the equation, and there was romantic relationship. They both had agreed to try this thing out and see where it would carry them. And at the rate things were going, it was carrying them nowhere fast! 

Failed dates meant start and stop all the time, no opportunity for them to really relax and let this thing between them evolve naturally. This, or they were just not meant to be, which was a thought Conner refused to entertain. Because he might not have been sure at first, but the more time he spent alone with Tim trying to woo him, the more he realized his platonic friendship feelings for Tim had left the harbor a long time ago. 

The frustration was fed by Tim’s attitude in all this. Conner was not blind, okay, he could see how Tim was always disappointed around him. By him. Everything would be alright, and then at some point, Conner would say or do something, and the light in Tim's eyes would dull, and he would retreat a million miles away from Conner. Tim being Tim meant he physically stayed there and forced himself to push through, but Conner knew him. He knew when Tim was switching to I-am-Robin-I-will-get-through-this mode. And that was not date mode, like at all! 

There were times when the interruption of their date had been a blessing, because Conner hurt so much seeing Tim like this, and he knew it was his fault. Because Conner could not give Tim what he deserved, just could not be good enough for him. It was suffocating. 

He had tried. He was still trying, so hard. To be there for Tim, to not take personally when he did something that would make Tim compare and find him inadequate. To not get angry at Tim, because it was not his fault, really, it wasn’t.  

Conner saw him working so hard to get pass his dreamt life, to not compare him to the Conner he had spent a lifetime with. But there was always a point where it all came back to that. Conner was just himself; not what Tim had projected onto him.  

And being jealous of a fantasized version of yourself was a new level of narcissism. 

***  

Tim fidgeted, realized it, willed himself to stop, and decided that appearances were the least of his worries right now. 

Brownie points for personal growth right there. 

“It’s not working,” he said softly, looking away. He stopped there, not sure how to continue but knowing for a fact that he would not leave Dinah's office without elaborating.  

Thankfully, by now Dinah was used to his inability to express smoothly his more emotional thoughts. She stayed silent, like she always did. 

“Conner and I, it’s not...” Tim hesitated. “I know he’s not my Conner, the one I dreamt about. And that’s okay. I wouldn’t want him to be anyway.” 

“So that seems to be the problem?” Dinah gently probed. 

Tim thought about how to express it. How his earlier apprehension about their relationship had melted away in the face of Conner's toughness and tenderness. How his boyfriend was both similar and different from the Conner he had created in the dream, because they were the same person, but Tim never could have imagined the extent of Conner's affection.  

He had had no idea . No idea how endearing it would be to see Conner try to surprise him, spectacularly fail, and to spend the evening smoothing the deception out of him. To see Conner learn more and more things about Tim – annoying quirks included – and always react with a teasing smile or a soft gesture, depending on Tim’s level of embarrassment at that time. 

But regardless of how much more his relationship with Conner was, his dreamt life was still in the way. By now, Tim had more than enough new memories – real ones - to replace the ones from his dream, but he could see Conner struggling, like he had to be perfect or... else.  

Tim felt like his boyfriend was perpetually acting some part to be the best version of himself, always trying harder, always on edge.  

“I’m afraid I pushed him into this thing between us.” Tim finally said. “It’s not fair to him, and I feel like I did not really give him a choice.” 

“But he had a choice, Tim. He chose to get romantically involved with you.” Dinah stated. 

Tim put his head into his hands before retorting. “Because I told him I dreamt of a life with him. Because I had been acting like a husband for months, not a best friend. What was the other option, really?” 

“Yet, he decided on his own, Tim,” Dinah replied. “Is that really what’s bothering you?” 

Yes and no, was the complicated answer. Of course, he was feeling guilty. But the problem was more profound than that. Tim liked where they were, and they were going. But whatever ever happened between them, a simple fact would always remain: their relationship had been prompted by Tim's behavior and its impact on Conner.  

Was it really the best foundation for a relationship? How could they ever trust that was developing between them – and Tim was not stupid, okay? He knew he was falling hard for Conner, in a different and more real way than what the spell had made him though was love.  

He could tell the difference. He could differentiate without a doubt between the false memories and his new memories with Conner, based on what he felt. There was no mistaking the serene familiarity of his dreamt life with the overwhelming surge of affection he felt now just thinking about Conner.  

It was terrifying.  

“What if it does not work in the end?” Tim finally admitted. “I know this is real, but in reality, most relationships end badly. What are the odds that we will work out, with everything we have against us?” 

He was met with a gentle smile. Dinah asked, “Do you think that not living fully your relationship with Conner will prevent the hurt, Tim? Or will it only bring regrets at having retreated from it like you used to retreat from your life?” 

“So what do I do?” He asked, panicking.  

He wanted Conner in his life. He loved him, he knew that for sure. To hell with the rest after all. He was already in too deep anyway. He had to salvage it. And Tim was not one to go without a fight. 

Dinah raised an eyebrow. 

Right, talk to Conner, of course. Six months of therapy, he should have called it. 

Tim left Dinah's office elated. By force of habit, he took his phone out of airplane mode and decided to text Conner about seeing him as soon as possible. Tim would make any concession he needed to be sure he would talk to Conner before his resolve weakened. 

His smile disappeared the minute he saw the notification on his screen. From Conner. The text was so short, the preview gave it away entirely. 

We need to talk.  

Chapter Text

The coffee shop was unremarkable. It was a modest establishment located on a quiet street corner. The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans filled the air, blending with the subtle scent of pastries. Basic lighting cast a gentle glow over the simple wooden tables and mismatched chairs. The soft hum of conversation mingled with the gentle clinking of cups and saucers, creating a familiar, if not particularly notable, ambiance. Conner anxiously stirred his latte, occasionally glancing at the door, awaiting Tim's arrival.  

Conner had selected a neutral location for this discussion because he knew better than to corner a Bat in their territory. The Tower was not an option: their teammates had no sense of privacy whatsoever and, sue him, Conner wanted to have this discussion in a public place to reduce the risk of Tim flat out bailing on him at the first sign of emotion.  

Hence, the choice of an average coffee shop, with unlimited access to caffeine, which invariably lifted Tim's spirits. And Tim claimed Conner lacked strategic thinking!  

As if on cue, Tim entered, scanning the room with the practiced ease of someone perpetually aware of their surroundings. Conner met his boyfriend's gaze and raised the drink he had already ordered for him. Observing Tim's impassive expression, Conner recoiled slightly.  

Clearly, Tim was in ‘Robin mode’. Conner could work with that. Not like he had a choice, right.  

Tim navigated slowly through the patrons and precariously placed chairs until he was seated opposite Conner. His demeanor was guarded, and his posture tense. Conner began to worry. Had something happened? Perhaps today was not the ideal day after all. Just as he was about to inquire, Tim interrupted him.  

“You wanted to talk. Let's talk,” Tim stated with the same businesslike tone he used for particularly difficult board members at Wayne Enterprises.  

In retrospect, the ‘we need to talk’ text and public meeting might have sent the wrong message. Conner felt foolish. Oh God, he was such an idiot... No way but through, then. 

“I'm sorry,” he began.  

He abruptly stopped when he saw the hurt flash in Tim's eyes, his shoulders tensing, and his body shrinking. Conner quickly placed his hands on top of Tim's. “No, I don't mean it like that.” 

Tim raised an inquisitive eyebrow and quietly asked, “No, you're not sorry?” 

“No! I mean, yes,” Conner tried to clarify. “I am sorry; that's the whole point of this conversation, but...” 

Tim's eyes widened, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline. He looked ready to bolt the moment Conner looked away, civilian cover be damned.  

Oh God, Conner was making it worse, wasn't he? How had he lost control of the conversation so quickly? Tim had only been there for less than a minute!  

“I'm not breaking up with you,” he finally exclaimed, loud enough to cover the background noise around them. 

Conversation around ceased abruptly. The noise of the industrial coffee maker at the bar was the only audible sound for several seconds. More than one able turned to look at them. 

Conner grunted and buried his head in his hands. He felt a tentative hand on the back of his head and looked up, startled. Tim was gazing at him with barely concealed laughter, finally relaxed and receptive. After a moment, the noise level around them resumed its usual volume.  

At least he had made Tim smile.  

“Conner, what are you sorry for?” Tim asked gently, keeping his hand on Conner's face.  

Conner sighed heavily. “For this. For always doing this . Putting my foot in my mouth, ruining everything, making you uncomfortable, not being enough... Not being him .” The last word was spoken so softly, he doubted Tim understood it. 

Tim looked ready to speak, but Conner went on before he lost his nerve.   

“I know you want more. You deserve more, Tim. I want to give you more, I promise you. I just don’t know how...”  

Conner felt helpless, but he was determined to make it work. He summoned all his courage – civilian and Super together - and dove in. 

“I don't know what to do, but I know I don't want to lose you.” 

Tim, bless him, stayed silent. His eyes were rapt and focused with an expression Conne had never seen before on his boyfriend. 

He took a deep breath and concluded his statement. “I like you, Tim, more than just as a friend. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it work, but I need you to guide me on how I can be good enough for you.” 

Everything Conner was laid bare between them. He had experienced difficult conversations before – he had talk things through with Clark, for Goodness’ sake – but never had he felt so vulnerable, as if his entire being was exposed for the world - and especially for Tim - to see. 

It was not like his deepest insecurity was feeling unworthy of acceptance and love for himself – side effect of being a clone. 

Tim remained silent and motionless for a long time. Conner maintained his composure by focusing on his breathing: inhaling through the nose, holding it, and then exhaling through the mouth. This brought Tim out of his daze. He tilted his head and inquired. 

“Are you practicing the breathing exercises from training?” 

Busted. 

“What’s that you take from all this,” he asked pointedly, his frustration obvious. Tim seems uneasy all of a sudden, and Conner was secretly relieved not to be the only one anymore.  

Tim looked away. “No, it’s not. But I’m ashamed.” 

Conner was surprised. “But why? Tim, I’m the one who…” 

“You’re perfect, Conner,” Tim interrupted, staring intently at him.  “You’re you, and that’s enough. More than enough, even, because it’s real .” 

Tim took a deep breath and gently reached for Conner. I want this relationship to work because it’s with you. I don't want a perfect fantasy; I never did.” Tim recoiled and grimaced. “I just wanted to be loved, and apparently you are the one person my subconscient would accept doing it.”  

“Tim…” Conner started, moved by Tim’s words. But Tim continued. 

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t enough. I never wanted that, and that’s on me. Please let me make it up to you.”  

And woah. What a hell of a declaration, especially for Tim. Come to think of it, what a hell of a declaration, full stop. Maybe Conner might not have to try so hard. Maybe this time, he was enough.  

“I can think of something, actually,” Conner teased, his smile as bright as the sun. 

Maybe they were going to be okay after all, even if their relationship was never going to be perfect. Maybe it just had to be real. 

*** 

For sure, their relationship really was not perfect, not by a long shot. But it was very much them . 

“Superboy, on your left!” Tim’s voice failed to convey his level of anger. Really, right now? What was Conner even thinking? 

“Thanks, Rob’, but that is not what we are discussing right now!” 

Tim clenched his teeth in irritation. He deftly avoided another attack and redirected his focus to his opponent rather than engaging with his partner. He had learned over five years of dating Conner never to engage in an argument with him while his boyfriend was in this particular mood, especially not during a mission.  

Despite being occupied with his own adversaries, Conner persisted, “I asked you a question, damn it. I’d like an answer,” he demanded, punctuating his statement by sending his opponent through a building. Enhanced human or not, it must have hurt. 

Tim maintained his composure through sheer power of will. “I hardly think this is an appropriate use of our comms, Superboy. We can have this discussion later.” 

Cassie, meanwhile, wore a broad grin, confirming that she and the others were hooked into their general channel. Conner would face consequences for this later. Tim intended to make him regret springing such a question in front of their friends. Kryptonite and numerous other tools Tim kept for such occasions would certainly be involved.  

Fortunately, their friends had refrained from commenting so far.  

“Actually, I am also curious about the answer,” Bart chimed in, clearly amused.  

He too would face repercussions. Perhaps Bart's favourite post-battle snacks would mysteriously disappear from the Tower delivery orders. People often forgot that Tim was responsible for the logistics of the place.  

“Shut up, Impulse. Not a word, Wonder Girl,” Tim warned as he saw her start to speak. “Conner, for the last, this is not an appropriate place to have this discussion.” 

The sound of a rockslide below drowned out any response Conner might have given. The ground crumbled around Tim, he had to take high ground right now.  A mostly intact building stood only a few feet away.  

As Tim swung through the air, he saw Cassie fly to safety just as his own line was cut. He plummeted towards the rigged hole, but Conner caught him just in time to prevent a painful landing.  

“I have you," Conner stated before continuing, destroying any gratitude Tim felt toward him. “I am still waiting for an answer." 

Tim's eyes widened behind his mask. "What is wrong with you? I am not going to answer you in the middle of a battle." So much for avoiding the bait, Tim thought.  

Conner was clearly upset. His grip remained steady, but tension made his shoulders rise and his jaw lock. "And when, exactly, will we have this discussion?"  

Once started, Conner was unstoppable. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks! If it is not an emergency, it is work or your family. Do you recall the last time we had a night to ourselves? I remember, because I was going to ask you then, but you fell asleep while eating !” 

And, okay. Maybe Conner had a point there.  

Work had been hectic, with hostile takeovers and public relations nightmares - thank you, Jason, for announcing your return from the dead without any warning - alongside R&D raids by LuthorCorp spies.  

Hero crises had also piled up, making Tim's presence at the Watchtower almost constant. Diana had even set up a room for him there, stating that if Tim was going to sleep more often at the Watchtower than at home, he should do so in an actual bed.  

The manor was also a battleground. Jason's public declaration of rejoining the family was clearly an attempt to antagonize Bruce. Contrary to expectations, Bruce was ecstatic to have Jason acknowledge his place in the family. Tim was left to manage the fallout and control the situation when Jason realized nothing he could do would dampen Bruce's spirits.   

Tim had spent weeks handling Red Hood's antics in both Crime Alley and the Manor, with no help from Dick, who retreated to Blüdhaven at the first sign of trouble, nor from any of the others. They were too busy taking bets on what would be the final straw to finally push Bruce over the edge and lash out at Jason.  

(So far, the answer was still nothing short of killing.)  

Tim had been busy, all right.  

A little - read, a lot – more than usual. His boyfriend felt neglected, which was understandable. However, Conner could have reacted more maturely and attempted to talk to him. Or, well, text him or something, since it’s not like Tim had been at their place of late. He had Tim’s personal assistant's direct line, for Christ's sake! How hard was it to make an appointment in his agenda, really? 

“That still does not justify proposing to me during a battle,” Tim insisted. At this point, bad faith was probably his best strategy. 

In response, Conner dropped him. From the sky. At an altitude where planes were met. The bastard.  

Note to self, Tim thought, when bad faith feels like the best option, always revert to apologizing.  

Luckily for him, Cassie clearly intended to be further diverted by their very public relationship drama. She intercepted him, shaking with silent laughter. Tim pouted until she landed him on a roof. High in the sky, Conner’s stern gaze remained unfazed.  

With a sigh, Tim relented. “I’m sorry for being so busy recently. I’ll be delighted to marry you. Can we please focus on winning this fight, now?”  

“Dibs on first man!” Both Cassie and Bart called out simultaneously over the comms. They briefly glanced at each other, realization dawning.  “Dibs on Tim!” 

“Dibs on Conner!” 

Conner's unrestrained laughter was the only thing preventing Tim from exploding right there.

*** 

It was supposed to be a beautiful day. It was the reason they had chosen Kansas for their wedding. Because the weather there was reliable. Summer days were hot and dry, with a side of windy if one was lucky. Not a drop of water had soiled Smallwille soil in the last decade in Summer.  

Conner opened his old bedroom door. Tim was looking through the windows. Conner embraced him from behind, observing the situation. Continuous rain had flooded the Kent farm since early morning. The tables arranged the previous day were soaked, with tablecloths stained brown from the muddy dirt.  

Conner's phone chimed, causing him to tense. Tim sighted. “What is it, now?” He asked, resigned. “Did the caterer get bogged down? Are electric lines cut by the wind? Tell me, I can handle it.” He challenged.  

Grimacing, Conner turned Tim toward him. Some conversations had to be face-to-face.  

“Well,” he began. “I got off the phone with Clark and…” 

Tim's phone chimed repeatedly. Conner knew it was one text for each of Tim’s family members and friends. He did not count them. But Tim did and arrived at the obvious conclusion. Conner felt more than he heard the gutted sound from his chest where Tim was trying to suffocate himself. 

“I'm sorry, there's a global crisis. Everyone is needed to help, but we're exempt for now because we're getting married in half an hour.” 

Tim could only manage grunts. Luckily, Conner knew him well enough to translate. Better to deal the final blow sooner than later, he decided. 

“So everybody is… not coming. And the lights are definitely out.” He concluded, knowing better than to try to smother Tim.  

Tim mumbled into Conner’s dress shirt, likely wrinkling it beyond saving. Conner thought it didn’t matter anymore.   

“Sorry, what?”  

Tim looked up, eyes gleaming with determination. “Is the officiant here?” he asked calmly.  

Conner paused, recognizing Tim's determined look from years of fighting evildoers and saving the world from global catastrophe. Conner knew that look. That was Tim’s patented I-am-Robin-and-nothing-will-curb-my-plans look. Uh oh.   

 "Yes," he replied cautiously, quietly assessing the level of danger. 

"Good." Tim adjusted their ties. "We're getting married today, and mark my words. Nothing will get in the way. Not even the weather!” 

This was a plan Conner could fully agree with. They still had to find a way to make it to the poor man downstairs who had to officiate a candlelit wedding without guests while drenched from the rain. 

Oh well, he was marrying a billionaire after all. They would find something. 

***  

The devastation around Tim pressed on his throat. Every building he could see was down, wrecked beyond recognition. Cold fires prompted every now and then, despite emergency relief efforts. The damage was just too extensive, the destruction too complete. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid smell of burning debris, mingling with the distant cries of survivors and the relentless wail of sirens.  

The area has been populated. How many people were under the debris? How many were already dead, how many would die before help could reach them? 

Tim walked among the shattered remnants. His footsteps, though measured and deliberate, crunched over broken glass and charred wood, the sound echoing through the hollowed buildings. He did not know why. Nothing he could do now that the threat had been handled. Why he had come back to the scene as a civilian, he could not begin to explain.  

But here he was, a silent witness to the catastrophe surrounding him. 

It was then, amid the rubble of a collapsed apartment block, that he heard a faint, almost imperceptible whimper. His heart pounded as he followed the sound, lifting a scorched beam that burned his hands to reveal a tiny, dust-covered bundle.  

A kid. There, in the middle of the madness. Alive. It was a miracle.  

Crouching down, Tim gently lifted the bundle. Miraculously, the child seems unharmed. Tim looked around and went rigid upon seeing the lifeless bodies of what could only be his parents lying nearby. 

An orphan, then. An orphan baby.  

As the baby opened its eyes and gazed up at him, Tim felt a long-forgotten emotion surge through him: protectiveness. With practice ease, he adjusted the child in his arms, securing him, and gently shushed him. 

He made his way back to the main triage center, never taking his eyes off the infant. The staring blue eyes in his arms reminded him so much of Conner. He tore his gaze from his precious cargo with reluctance as he approached one of the relief workers, a weary-looking woman with soot-streaked cheeks.  

“I found this baby in the rubble,” Tim said, his voice rough with emotion. “What should I do?” 

As the words left his mouth, the thought of handing over this innocent life to an overwhelmed system filled him with dread.  They were already stretched to their limits, and this one will only be one of many. Somehow, the idea broke his heart. 

The woman looked at him and smiled weakly. “Well, you can continue to keep him calm. We’re overwhelmed here, and you look like to know how to handle an infant.” 

Tim nodded. “Well, yes, I… I mean, my dad – my adoptive dad – has had wards for a couple of decades, now. My siblings and I, we’re used to unexpected kids dropped on us at Sunday brunch.” He joked. Not quite the truth, but still better than ‘I lived a dreamt life where I was a dad, and a granddad.’ 

That got an interested look from the women. “Look, I’ll be blunt. We can take him, but the shelters are overflowing with orphans. It’s a hard truth, but we’re going to struggle to find a place for them all." 

She gestured at Tim holding the child. “If your dad is qualified to take him, and maybe willing, you might want to give him a call. Honestly, it will not take much to convince my supervisor to relish the kid in your care in this situation.” 

No way Bruce would turn down an orphan. Especially if Tim asked him as a favor, just the time that… that what, exactly? That Tim could apply for a warding license, get custody of the kid, and draw adoption papers? 

Yes? Exactly that. The craziest part of it all? Tim did not have a doubt about it. Not one. Although Conner was going to end him. 

They had talked about it, of course, they had. Tim knew he wanted kids, had known that even before the spell conjured Joel. Of course, he had shared his dream son memories when his boyfriend had conjured the courage to ask about the plush toy in Tim's bed. It was still a constant feature in their conjugal bed, years later.  

Conner knew that the toy meant to Tim, even now. After years of therapy with Dinah, after marrying Conner, Tim could still not let go of his wish to be a father. So, they had talked about kids. Conner had said he wanted them, that he wanted a family with Tim.   

But there was a difference between agreeing to start a family with your partner down the line and coming home to an unknown toddler without warning.  

Tim arrived home, his heart still pounding but for different reasons than earlier. He carefully placed the baby’s small basket on the couch and sat there with him, waiting for Conner. The weight of his decision bore down on him, and he could feel his shoulders tense from the stress of Conner’s reaction. 

He had called his husband earlier, asking to come home as soon as possible, without stating why. Because no amount of cowardice could make Tim have the conversation they were having tonight over the phone. 

When Conner walked in, the exhaustion of a long day of worry for Tim visible on his face, and he froze, staring at the basket.  

“Tim, what is this?” He asked, his voice tight with confusion and a hint of anger.  

Tim took a deep breath, his mind racing for the right words. 

“I found this baby in the rubble today. His parents didn't make it. The shelters are overflowing, and I couldn't just leave him there.” 

Conner's face hardened, his eyes narrowing as he processed Tim's explanation.  

“And you decided to bring him home without even talking to me first? Without including me in this decision?” His voice shook, a mix of hurt and disbelief.  

Tim felt a pang of guilt, but he was unrepentant. He just had to make Conner understand.  

“I didn't think it through. I just... I saw him, and I knew I had to do something.” 

Conner turned away, running a hand through his hair. “Do you have any idea how overlooked I feel right now? We make decisions together, Tim. This isn't something you can just spring on me.” 

Tim's heart ached as he apologized to his husband. 

“I know, and I'm sorry. I should have asked you, but in that moment, it felt like the right thing to do.” 

Conner let out a deep sigh, his eyes drifting to the baby in the basket. The child was sleeping peacefully, tiny hands curled into fists, a soft coo escaping his lips. Conner walked over and knelt, peering into the basket. For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of the situation hanging between them.  

Slowly, the tension in his face began to soften. Tim could see the conflict in his eyes, the mixture of anger and curiosity giving way to something gentler. Conner reached out, touching the baby's cheek with a trembling hand.  

“He's... he's so small,” Conner whispered, his voice breaking.  

Tim felt a swell of affection for his beloved husband, tears pricking at his eyes. 

“I know. And I know it’s not what we discussed, nor what you expected. I am sorry about springing him on you like that. But I’m sorry about him.” 

Conner looked up at Tim, his expression a blend of uncertainty and hope. He looked back at the baby, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.  

“Alright, Tim. Let's do this. Let's give him a home.” 

Tim felt a rush of relief and gratitude, his heart lifting as he watched Conner's acceptance unfold. It might not have been how they expected to start their family together, but it was a start, alright. 

***  

The living room was bathed in the soft glow of the evening light, filtering through the sheer curtains. The walls were adorned with memories - framed photographs of vacations, family gatherings, and candid moments that captured the essence of their journey together. The scent of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air – as always in their home, much to Conner’s dismay - mingling with the faint aroma of freshly baked cookies from earlier.  

Tim and Conner sat on the plush, oversized couch, with Joel nestled comfortably between them, his gentle snores a comforting melody in the quiet room. Tim glanced at Conner, a smile playing on his lips.  

“You know, sometimes I wonder how I got so lucky,” he said, his voice tinged with a mix of amazement and gratitude.  

Conner chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, you did were ‘Wonder boy’ at some point, remember? The ‘wonder’ part must have stuck with you somehow. But you’re right, though,” Conner continued softly, “ we got lucky.” 

Emotion threatened to overwhelm him, making Tim deflect. Even after all those years together, sometimes, he could still not believe Conner had chosen him .  

“Luck, huh? More like a lot of hard work and late-night planning sessions.” Tim teased. 

Conner nudged him playfully. “Yes, we are all grateful for your overplanning tendencies. But look at us now. This life we've built... It's perfect.” Conner saw Tim grimace at him and corrected. “Except for the state of Joel's room, obviously.”  

Tim laughed, shaking his head.  

“Okay, maybe not perfect in the spotless, everything-in-its-place sense.” Conner amended. “But perfect. Because we fought for it, through all the ups and downs, and that’s what makes it so precious.” 

Tim squeezed Conner's hand, feeling the warmth and love that had always been their foundation. He was such a sap. And Tim was no better, really. 

“And I wouldn't trade a single moment of it, Conner. This is our life, our perfect, imperfect life.” Tim softly told him. 

Their life was not just perfect; it was theirs, a tapestry woven with threads of struggle, triumph, love, and unwavering commitment. And as they sat there, with Joel dreaming peacefully between them, Tim knew that their story was far from over. It was just the beginning of an endless journey filled with hope and possibility. 

He could not wait for the next part.