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It’s spring again, and it’s warmer than last year. All around the garden, baby birds chirp in their nests and butterflies float among newly blossomed flowers.
Behind a curtain, Tim curls his hand around Alfred’s upper arm. He wouldn’t have anyone else here with him, except the person who matters the most.
But he is waiting somewhere else.
The music pushes into Tim’s mind like Jason pushed into his life - softly, slowly making its way until he believed it had been there the whole time.
Alfred gently, comfortingly places a hand over the one curled around Tim’s arm.
“Are you alright, Master Timothy?”
Tim smiles up at him. “Please. It’s just Tim today. And yes, I’m alright.”
He’s more than alright. Right now, Tim’s the happiest person in the world. In the universe. Heck, he’s the happiest person in the multiverse.
Well, except for Jason, maybe. Hopefully. (But all the doubt’s already been washed away, rolled off his shoulders a long time ago. He knows Jason feels the same, they share a heart.)
When the curtain finally reveals them, Alfred leads him down the aisle. All the guests turn their heads to watch him - Barbara and Bruce and Damian, who’d been the ring bearer. Dick grins at him from his place as Best Man, and all their family’s friends, from Lucius Fox to Clark Kent, are present.
And all eyes are on him.
You’re all missing out on the best part, Tim thinks. You’ve been fooled. Just turn around and you’ll know why.
His heart doesn’t exactly flutter as it does soar, at the look that Jason gives him. At the love that’s shining in his eyes, all for Tim.
But to be honest, he’s glad no one else sees what he sees. It’s all for him, for the two of them. A private show.
Even though they’d already had a private ceremony, in some dingy chapel downtown a week ago.
Jason, in his jeans and v-neck shirt and combat boots with his brown leather jacket smelling like smoke and gunpowder. Tim, in the button-up and dress shoes and pants he’d worn to the office that morning, his tie loosened and his jacket laid out neatly on the front pew.
Their natural selves in their natural state, hidden from the rest of the prying world.
(It was just supposed to be a quick date, Tim’s lunch break and Jason had just gotten up from a late patrol the night before.
“I hear they’ve got a great Panini. Wanna go here?”
“Nah, I’m more in the mood for a chili dog. Wanna get married instead?”)
They’d spoken their vows in secret, like all the things they murmur on rooftops during patrol and against each other’s skin, and all the things they don’t have to say but do anyway. And then they’d kissed in secret, too, same as all the ones they’ve snuck on shadowed fire escapes and between all the minutes and seconds they’ve spent together.
All the hours and days and weeks and months.
Now it will be years and forevers, and all the yesterdays and todays and tomorrows, bundled up by two gold rings.
This is just a courtesy. This is just a play put on so their family and friends’ feelings won’t get hurt.
As Jason says “I do” for the second time, Tim thinks, this is the surest thing he has ever known. More thanBatman needs a Robin, more than Bruce is alive.
This is Jason and I love you and yes, of course I’ll marry you.
“Do you, Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, take Jason Peter Todd to be your lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health till death do you part?”
The corner of Jason’s mouth twitches, and Tim can’t help but mirror him. Even if death does rip them apart, it won’t stop them. Jason is testament to that. And Tim will follow Jason wherever he goes.
“I do.”
They don’t even let the reverend finish before Jason says “c’mere” and pulls Tim’s body against his.