Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tears stream down his face, burning as they run down his left cheek, swollen and red from his mother's handprint. He does his best to stifle the sobs and hiccups that shake his small, gangly body, curled up at the back of his half-empty closet. 

His hands tremble as he holds close to his chest the interdimensional communicator that Jimmy Neutron had given them after their last adventure together several weeks ago. It could only make calls and was intended for emergencies of the 'something or someone wants to destroy the world or worse' level.

But now, Timmy Turner, his cheek burning, his vision blurred by tears, had no other choice. The fear he had tried to hide deep in his heart had come true, with his parents' cruel and dehumanizing words shouted just an hour ago, with the hand that rose and fell hard against his cheek when he tried to apologize between stutters, even though it hurt him to admit it, with the increasingly frustrated and accusatory comments that grew with each day they saw him and remembered that he wasn't the girl they'd wanted so much, every time he came home with a bad grade and every time he tried to explain that the words blurred together on the whiteboard and in his book, giving him a headache and sometimes making it impossible to understand even a single sentence, every time Timmy even showed his face at home.

He squeezed the spherical communicator tighter in his hands, the screen being the only thing illuminating the small space of old wood, Danny's contact with the call symbol under it, he just had to press it. He just had to call.

“Go ahead, dear. He'll help you.” A soft, warm, familiar voice whispered in his ear. Wanda.

“You're gonna be okay, sweetheart.” Another voice whispered, more masculine, with a paternal warmth and reassurance he rarely showed, close to his healthy cheek. Cosmo.

Tears welled up even more in his blue eyes, affection and pain mingling in his heart as he thought of his magical godparents, the only beings who had shown him unconditional love and support, who fed him in secret when his parents forgot about him or punished him for a bad grade, who accompanied him every day, through every bad decision, every mistake, who encouraged him when he struggled at school, who taught him good and evil, who scolded him without being cruel, who smiled at him sincerely, who made him laugh, who wiped away his tears and hugged him until he fell asleep, who brought light and warmth to his miserable life. Who, Timmy knew without a doubt, would adopt him if they could, if they weren't immortal magical beings unable to influence the fate of humans, only capable of bringing momentary joy to the children who needed it most.

He sniffed weakly, emboldened by the words of the two fairies flanking him, and quickly pressed the call button before lifting the communicator to his ear.

The tone rang twice before the call connected, and a second later, with a slight static, a voice said, "Timmy? Everything okay, buddy?”

Hearing Danny's voice filled him with an emotion and relief that almost made him dizzy. The words stuck in his throat, and all that came out was a wet sob.

Danny's voice, which had previously been curious with just a hint of concern behind it, turned stony when he spoke again. “I'm coming to you. Give me a minute.”

Timmy doesn't have time to even try to ask before the call cuts off. Confusion and surprise break through his erratic thoughts, tears and burning sensations receding into the background as he tries to understand what Danny was planning.

Even if Jimmy wasn't doing anything at the moment, he thinks it would take him more than a minute to even turn on his interdimensional portal, plus the double trip Danny would have to make to get to him, and even that wouldn't take him directly to Timmy but to an abandoned lot behind his school.

Even so, barely 20 seconds have passed since the call ended when a strange noise is heard in his room at the same time as a neon green light filters through the closed closet doors. Suddenly, Danny's voice comes through the wood. “Timmy? Are you here?”

Timmy's body moves unconsciously, he opens the closet doors and opens his teary eyes in amazement when he encounters the halfa, standing in the middle of his room with a portal (more like a tear, as if a giant cat had broken reality with its claws) projecting a supernatural green light behind him.

The almost fluorescent green eyes meet the almost dull blue ones in a second of silence.

A sob escapes Timmy once again at the sight of the one he sees as an older brother, and without thinking of the consequences, he throws himself at the half-elf, wrapping his small arms around him and burying his tear-stained face in his stomach. Danny doesn't hesitate and immediately wraps his arms around Timmy's shoulders, pulling him close to his cold body. He bends slightly over the small child crying in his suit, as if trying to cover Timmy with his own body.

He thinks of the fleeting glimpse of Timmy's swollen, reddened cheek, the flash of red on his nose, his bloodshot, tear-filled eyes, how broken, scared, and small Timmy's voice sounded, once full of joy and courage, through the communicator, and it is at that moment that something awakens in the halfa chest, something bristling and protective. He knows in that instant that he will destroy whatever it takes to protect Timmy.

“It's okay, Timmy,” he whispers in the stillness of the dusty, dark room with barely any furniture. “I've got you.”

Chapter Text

Danny stayed in that room for an indefinite amount of time, hugging Timmy as the little boy cried on him. His hands rubbed slow, soothing circles on the boy's back, while his mind raced.

He couldn't leave Timmy here. Even without the little boy explaining, he knew from the sporadic comments he made in the middle of their adventures that his parents were the problem. If they had reached the point where they were beating their only child, leaving Timmy at their mercy was the equivalent of putting a noose around his neck. Just remembering the swollen cheek and bloody nose made his blood boil.

Taking him with him wouldn't work either. Maybe a month ago, when he still had a home of his own and parents who weren't trying to catch him to rip his chest open, and actually, rotating between his friends' houses to sleep only worked because Danny could fly and turn invisible.

No, the best option is for both of them to get away from their own dimensions, where they can settle down without attracting attention, preferably where they can have access to money...

Oh, shit.

It's gonna be that person, isn't it?

The sigh of exasperation leaves Danny faster than he can hold it back, and as a result, Timmy, who seems to have calmed down to sporadic hiccups, lifts his head just enough for his round, reddened eyes to look at him with a guilt that squeezes Danny's heart.

“I'm sorry, I got you dirty...” the boy murmurs, his voice broken from crying.

Danny smiles at him and strokes his brown hair with one hand (his signature pink cap is missing, allowing his curls to go in all directions), the other continuing to trace circles on his back.

“It's not you, buddy. I was just thinking about what we're gonna do.”

Timmy's head tilts to one side, giving him the look of a curious puppy. Danny bites his tongue to keep from cooing. “What are we gonna do?” the boy asks.

“Well, you can't stay here anymore, that's for sure,” Danny declares.

Timmy stiffens in his arms and his face contorts with what looks like distress and apprehension. “B-but, my parents—”

“It's not safe for you to be with your parents anymore, Timmy. Today it was just a slap on the cheek, tomorrow it could be something worse, and I'm not taking that risk.”

He didn't mean to sound so harsh and immediately regrets his choice of words when Timmy shudders and his eyes fill with tears again. “I'm sorry,” he says quietly, his hand combing through the knots in Timmy's hair.

Timmy is silent for a moment, looking down. At this point, he is leaning almost his entire weight against Danny's body. When he looks up again, meeting Danny's eyes, the curiosity has returned. “Are we coming to your dimension?”

Danny grimaces and shakes his head. “No, actually my dimension isn't very good right now either.” Then, against his better judgment, a smile appears on his lips. “I have another place in mind.”

Timmy's round blue eyes blink. “Where?”

Instead of answering, Danny ruffles Timmy's hair one last time before gently pulling away. Timmy resists for only a moment before letting go, immediately pulling his arms close to his chest. “I'll tell you when we get there, it'll be a surprise.” At Timmy's confused look, Danny can't help but chuckle. “First, you have to pack. Try to do it light and only bring the essentials.”

Acknowledging the request, Timmy's shoulders straighten and he looks around, anxiety and excitement churning in their guts. He forces himself not to think too much about what it means to leave the only home he has ever known and even his dimension, and focuses on the anticipation of wherever Danny wants to go. Danny said he would like it, and he trusts Danny completely.

He goes to the wall next to his door to pick up his backpack, taking out all his school books, the ones with the traces of his tears of frustration. With his backpack empty, he walks around his room picking up everything important.

A couple of clean shirts, the only pants that still fit him, his pajamas, underwear, and clean socks. He doesn't dare go to the bathroom for his toothbrush, hoping he can get one wherever they're going. Trying to think of what else he should take, his gaze suddenly stops at the fish tank next to his bed. He bites his lip, frowning, but before he can think of what to do, a subtle flash of frost catches his eye on the backpack at his feet. He looks down, smiling as soon as he sees the two star-shaped keychains, pink and green, attached to the zipper.

With his luggage ready, he returns to Danny. Without saying a word, the teenager takes the pink backpack and slings it over his shoulder. He gives Timmy an easy smile.

“Okay, now we'll make a super quick stop in my dimension, then we'll go to the surprise.”

Suddenly, Timmy becomes aware again of the tear in the middle of his room, the inside of which looks like a swirl of green and black slime in slow motion, but before he can ask, he feels Danny wrap his arms around him and lift him off the ground. Timmy lets out a sharp noise of surprise and his hands automatically cling to the halfa shoulders as he is carried like a koala.

“Let me know if you get dizzy,” Danny warns, before lifting off the ground and, without further ado, entering the strange portal with Timmy.

Timmy expected to arrive at Jimmy's lab when they went through the portal, but instead, they are in the middle of a clear sky, with just a few white clouds. He looks down, and unconsciously his body clings tighter to Danny's when he sees how far they are from the ground, which only makes the half-ghost laugh.

“Don't worry, I won't let you fall,” he assures him. Still, to the younger boy's dismay, Danny shifts his weight to support him with one hand under his thighs, and Timmy's fingers move from Danny's shoulders to wrap around his neck, letting out a small squeak. Even so, he watches in amazement as Danny uses his newly freed hand to extend his palm in front of the portal-tear, moving it from bottom to top as if trying to remove steam from a mirror after a hot shower, and in turn, the portal closes following Danny's hand.

“Wow...” Timmy murmurs, amazement shining in his eyes as he looks at Danny. “Have you always been able to do that?”

Once the portal is closed, Danny flies away with Timmy. “Actually, no. I learned it recently, along with some other tricks.”

Timmy gasps, a smile quickly spreading across his face. "Will you show me? Please? Can you shoot that green laser from your eyes now?"

Danny chuckles, his ice core almost purring at the sound of excitement in the boy's voice. He shakes his head casually, before landing on the roof of a laundromat and setting Timmy down on the ground. “Maybe later, buddy,” he says, handing him his backpack.

“Wait for me here, I'm going to pick up a few things and let my friends know I won't be around for a while.”

The ten-year-old nods diligently, letting out a soft “Okay,” but half a second later, he adds, “Will it take much?”

Danny ruffles his hair, giving him a smile that he hopes will reassure him. “It'll be quick, ten minutes max, but I'll try to be back sooner.”

“Okay,” Timmy replies again, visibly calmer, either because of Danny's hand in his hair or because of the confirmation that he will return to him.

“Don’t go near the edge and if you hear sirens approaching, call me immediately.” He makes sure to look Timmy in the eyes as he tells him this and waits for him to nod before he puts his hand away and floats up. He gives the child one last look before speeding away.

When Danny gets lost in the distance, Timmy looks around and without daring to disobey the teenager's instructions, he simply sits on the ground and hugs his backpack against his chest. Only two minutes pass before silence overwhelms him. Looking to distract himself from the memories of the day before Danny's arrival, look down at the star keychains.

“Where do you think we are going?” he asks.

"I couldn't say, sport." Wanda replies, her face appearing as soon as she hears the voice of her godson, Cosmo does the same.

“Maybe it’s a candy world! With chocolate waterfalls and cotton candy trees!” exclaims Cosmo in a singing voice.

That's worth a giggle from Timmy. Wanda rolls her eyes fondly. “If it's like that, they would have cavities in less than a day.”

A bird comes flying in, perching on the rooftop a couple of feet from Timmy and the boy looks at it curiously as he follows the conversation. “It would be great if it were a world with superheroes, like Crimson Chin”

Wanda takes a moment to think about her answer. “Well, it could happen, there are millions of possibilities.”

Then, a worry takes root in Timmy's chest. He looks again at his godparents, his eyebrows furrowed with anxiety. “Will you be okay? Is it fine for you to be so far away from the magic world?”

The two godparents share a look, a quick conversation happens between them without words, when they look back at Timmy. Wanda speaks first. “We'll be fine, but we may not be able to fulfill many wishes. I'm sorry, honey."

Timmy shakes his head. “I don’t care about wishes anymore, if it means you staying with me.”

“Of course we’ll stay with you, Timmy!” Cosmo says right away.

“We would never leave you, sport.” Wanda assures him.

“You are our favorite godson, we love you Timmy.” Cosmo's statement takes his breath away.

Timmy's heart races as a tingling, warm feeling spreads across his chest, he feels his eyes itch as if he were going to cry, but manages to hold him back. Still, his lips bow upward in a shy but sweet smile.

He squeezes the backpack even tighter in his arms, as if embracing his godparents and with blushing cheeks, whispers: “I love you too.”

Another four minutes pass before Danny returns, carrying a training bag over his shoulder. He plants his feet next to Timmy, at the same time as the little boy stands up in a jump. “All ready to go.”

Timmy puts on his backpack in a rush, but looks up when Danny catches his eye, only to find him smiling as if he were about to teach him how to commit tax fraud just for fun. He immediately gives it his full attention.

The halfa raises his hand in front of them and with increasing amazement, Timmy watches as Danny's gloved fingers slowly transform into sharp claws, then raises his hand above his head and with a quick movement and a dramatic touch that is only for this first time of Timmy, rips the air.

But it doesn't just tear the air apart, as three neon green lines appear in the empty space, these quickly open up and merge to show the same green silt portal that Danny used before to reach his dimension and back.

Timmy's jaw loosens, and a second later, his eyes glow with disbelief. He shakes his hands near his chest so fast they are just a blur, while Danny lets his hand return to normal and bathes in childish admiration.

"That is SO cool!" Timmy shouts. Danny only laughs quietly.

…

Amid the stillness of a dark, damp alley inhabited only by cockroaches and rats, the air tears to make way for a swirl of neon green and pitch black. The swirl stays intact for about a minute, until Danny's gray-skinned head and white hair peeks out. His almost radioactive green eyes scan the alley in silence. Once he makes sure no one is looking at them, the rest of his body goes through the portal, with his bag over his shoulder and Timmy leaning on his hip on the other side.

He leaves Timmy on the ground beside him and quickly closes the portal behind him.

The truth is, he knows that it is not necessary to carry Timmy to pass through the portal, but it is impossible for him to deny the sense of tranquility that gives him the child in his arms, where he can take better care of him and take him away at the slightest sign of danger.

Ignoring for the moment what that means and archiving it to crumble and analyze it later, he thinks a little about the next move.

Silently, he raises his chin and looks up at the sky. As he predicted, the night sky is sad and completely blocked, not a single star in sight in the Black Sea he knows must be filled with clouds and smog. He sighs, trying to ignore the sad pull of his core and instead lets his body convert to its human version. He unzips his bag and pulls out a gray hoodie with a rocket print, a gift for his eleventh birthday that had been buried in his closet. He turns around and offers it to Timmy.

"Here, I've been thinking about giving it to you for a long time." He says in a casual tone.

Timmy hesitates, his look going from the hoodie to Danny a couple of times. Danny, without letting it affect him, offers the other hand. “Come on, give me your bag while you put it on. It's cold here at night and we have to walk a bit."

With one last look, as if he really thought Danny would retract and push the gift away, he finally gives in and takes the bag off his shoulders once again, passing it to Danny at the same time he takes the hoodie.

When he puts it on, it looks even smaller, his fingers barely sticking out of his sleeves. It's a little adorable, but Danny's holding back from commenting, for now. Instead, he smiles at Timmy as he puts the pink backpack over his free shoulder, receiving a frown in return.

He doesn't allow Timmy to argue, reaching up with his palm, catching him off guard. "Let's go." He says in a low voice.

Timmy looks at the hand one last time, before taking it with his smaller one. Danny squeezes subtly and without waiting any longer, they walk out of the alley and into the streets of Gotham.

Chapter Text

They had barely reached the street corner when the thunder began to rumble in the distance. The first one, though not so loud, startled Timmy and made him shiver, his hand tightening around Danny's.

Consequently, although the need to hurry increased, Danny forced himself to slow his steps so that Timmy, with his shorter legs, could move closer to his side without stopping.

Despite the tension that enveloped them with each thunder, Timmy does not let go of his curiosity. He lifts his bluish gaze towards the teenager, while his free hand hides from the cold night in the pocket of his hoodie.

"Danny," he calls. Danny looks at him out of the corner of his eye for a moment, making a low noise to let him know he's listening while constantly scanning his surroundings. "Can I know where we are now?" Timmy asks.

Instead of answering, his chin lifts, and his focus shifts to the rooftops of the buildings. "I was hoping one of them would find us by now," he says, though it sounds more to himself than to the child beside him. His blue eyes narrow, trying to distinguish a flash of red, blue, or even green and yellow among the shadows and darkness, knowing that trying to find the larger black figure is futile. "Just today of all days, it seems they took the night off."

Timmy arches an eyebrow, confused by the teenager's words. What did he mean by 'one of them'? Just as he's about to ask exactly that, a wet touch on his nose startles him with a low exclamation. "Ah!"

As soon as the sound leaves his mouth, Danny turns to look at him but doesn't have time to ask when a drop of water falls on the halfa's forehead. Their eyes meet, and realization hits them just an instant before the rain starts to fall on them. The two boys shrink as the large, cold drops fall faster and faster, drenching them.

Danny curses, his free hand grabs the hood of the hoodie he gave Timmy and pulls it over his brown curls before starting to run with the little one in tow.

They run as fast as they can, Timmy struggling to keep pace with the taller boy, but even so, when they find a small roof at the entrance of a closed store to take shelter, their shoulders are soaked; in Danny's case, his black hair sticks to his forehead and drips down his neck.

Timmy takes off the wet hood as they catch their breath. The rain falls around them, obscuring the view of the street and bringing wind that hits their wet clothes, creating a chill that gives him goosebumps. Timmy hugs himself in a weak attempt to keep warm and contain the shivers.

Suddenly, an arm wraps around his shoulders, and Danny pulls him to his own body. Timmy immediately presses against Danny's side, even though he's also wet, clinging to the comforting anchor-like sensation. Even with the semi-ghost state and the ice core, Danny's body feels warm, and Timmy sinks into the body heat he shares.

The ten-year-old feels as well as hears the sigh that escapes from Danny. "We'll have to wait for the rain to stop before continuing."

Chapter Text

The ten-year-old feels as well as hears the sigh that escapes from Danny. "We'll have to wait for the rain to stop before continuing."

“Can’t you make a p-portal to where we’re going?” the words tangle between his chattering teeth, and Danny’s arm tightens around him a little more.

“I could, but the thing is, my portals only take me to places I’ve been, and I’ve never actually been inside his house.” The truth is, every time they offered him an overnight stay or even just dinner, Danny knew deep down that as soon as he stepped into that mansion, they wouldn’t let him leave easily. But now, with the small, thin Timmy trembling in his arms and the rain growing heavier, he was beginning to believe it would have been better to go through that situation, no matter how annoying it was.

“Oh…”

Danny bites his lower lip out of guilt and begins rubbing his hand up and down Timmy’s arm, both as comfort and as an attempt to warm him up. He puts all the confidence he can muster into his voice when he tells him, “Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.” And he has to do it fast; the longer they spend on the street, wet and cold, the more likely Timmy is to get sick.

Just as Danny was beginning to consider the idea of carrying Timmy and flying above the clouds, a noise overhead caught the halfa’s attention, followed by what sounded like a voice muffled by the roar of the rain.

He barely has time to look up, his brow furrowed, when someone falls with a thud beside them. The two boys tense up immediately; Timmy lets out a small yelp as Danny turns to cover him, about to transform into Phantom when he recognizes the black-and-blue suit.

Nightwing, who has stepped under the small awning soaking wet from head to toe, looks at both of them in astonishment, and even with his domino mask, it’s all too obvious that he’s blinking like an owl. He raises his hands in a pacifying gesture upon noticing the tension in the teenager’s body as he struggles to shield the younger child, and gives them a smile.

“Oops, sorry if I scared you.” I guess I wasn’t the only one who got caught in this rain. He says in a light, casual tone.

Upon recognizing the vigilante, Danny sighs and his shoulders slump as the tension drains away. “Finally, I was starting to think I’d have to break into a bank just to get one of you to show up.” The halfa complains, rolling his eyes.

Dick raises an eyebrow at the teenager’s words; the way he speaks is as if it weren’t the first time they’ve met, which confuses him even more. He immediately plans to ask, but just as his lips part, he’s interrupted by the little boy who now peeks out from beside the teenager, his blue eyes shining with the wonder and admiration he’s seen many times before. The little boy tugs insistently on the teenager’s sleeve, but doesn’t take his eyes off Nightwing.

“Danny!” he whispers, “It’s Nightwing!” The excitement is palpable in the little boy with the buck teeth, and when the teenager looks down at him, his eyes immediately soften and a smile spreads across his lips.

Dick feels his own face mirror the smile, his heart unable to help but soften at the scene. “Is there anything you need?” he asks, making sure to soften his voice.

The teenager then gives him an odd glance before his blue eyes widen as if he’s just remembered something. “Oh, right, I guess you've never seen me like this.”

Nightwing tilts his head at the choice of words, then the teenager carefully releases his arm from the little boy’s grip, giving him a look and a subtle nod. A second later, Dick watches in astonishment as a ring of white light appears around the boy’s torso and splits to slide up and down his body before vanishing; suddenly, Dick is no longer looking at a black-haired, deep-blue-eyed teenager, but at the mysterious and elusive Phantom.

“What…?” the man mumbles.

Phantom, Danny, smiles at him, but it’s not that mischievous or mocking grin he’s seen more than once and that basically defined him; instead, it’s a smile with tense corners and cautious body language. As if he wanted to appear calm, but at the same time ready to run if necessary. “I was wondering if that invitation to stay at the mansion is still valid,” he says, giving the boy beside him a quick, meaningful glance, “and to add one more.”

For a moment, Nightwing just stares, his mouth slightly agape in shock, his mind taking an extra second to process Phantom-Danny’s words. But when he finally manages it, a smile spreads across his lips, and even a little giggle escapes him. His hand rises to comb his wet hair back and away from his face, before reaching for his ear where his communicator is hidden. “Guys? Can someone let Agent A know we’ll have guests today?”

Questions quickly come over the line, to which Dick simply replies: “It’s Phantom.”

Chapter Text

Danny watches, with a certain joy, as the vigilante tries to calm what must surely be a cacophony of overlapping voices all vying to get answers above the others, after his totally dramatic declaration. That is, he knows the Bats must have a file that they're desperate to fill, but he didn’t expect his agreeing to stay at the mansion to cause such a commotion.

From time to time, Dick glances at him out of the corner of his eye as he speaks in a low voice to whoever’s on the other end of the line tonight (at this point, if anyone wasn’t active before, they are now). He subtly analyzes him, perhaps piecing together the features of his living form with those of his ghostly one, and notices that his eyes also linger on the gym bag and backpack he’s carrying.

A tug on his arm distracts him, and Danny looks down at the boy who is quickly becoming his full-fledged little brother.

Timmy looks like he’s about to explode, miraculously holding himself back as he bounces up and down on his tiptoes in a fast, repetitive rhythm, his blue eyes shining with clear excitement.

“Danny! Danny! Are we going to the Batcave? Are we going to see Batman?!” Somehow, Timmy manages to whisper and shout at the same time.

This was exactly the reaction he’d been waiting for, so he can’t help but feel a little caught up in Timmy’s excitement. Leaning in to speak softly, Danny’s eyes narrow at the corners as he responds with another question. “Did you like the surprise?”

Timmy’s smile grows impossibly wider, revealing not only his buck teeth. The fingers of one hand grip and release Danny’s arm with pent-up energy, while the other pulls away to shake it so fast it becomes almost a blur.

"It's the coolest thing in the world!" he exclaims, his voice turning a bit shrill at the end.

Danny lets out a soft chuckle, touched and amused by Timmy’s boundless energy; his core hums with satisfaction every time he sees the little boy’s smile, knowing it’s thanks to him.

“Okay,” Nightwing’s voice catches the pair’s attention; it seems he’s finally managed to calm the other birds, and when he turns to look at them, he wears that smile that makes him look like a Golden Retriever. “B is coming here.”

Nightwing leans down, his hands resting on his thighs to bring himself closer to Timmy’s line of vision. Beside him, Danny tenses almost imperceptibly; out of nowhere, a protective instinct flares up, and he has to restrain himself and remind himself that Dick Grayson would never hurt a child.

Whether he noticed it or not, Dick says nothing, his face turned toward Timmy (though he can’t tell exactly what his eyes are looking at beneath the domino mask), who suddenly seems shy, moving half a step closer to Danny.

“What’s your name, kid?"

Timmy takes a second to answer. His voice is much calmer than a moment ago when the vigilante was distracted. “I’m Timmy…”

“It’s a pleasure, Timmy and… Danny?” Nightwing looks over at Danny when he says his name, just to confirm what he’s no doubt been listening on.

Danny sticks out his green tongue with an expressionless face, only to hear Timmy’s giggles. Unfortunately, the moment is interrupted by an icy gust of wind; for the halfa and the masked man it’s not much of a problem, but unlike them, Timmy has nothing more than a wet hoodie to cover him, so he can’t help but shiver from head to toe and hunch over, wrapping his arms around himself.

Both the vigilante and the halfa frown at see him; Danny wraps his arm around him again, while Nightwing straightens up to bring his hand back to the communicator in his ear. “B, what distance are you?” He can’t hear the response he receives, raising an eyebrow as Nightwing turns and looks down the street.

Danny squints to try to see through the rain that’s still falling relentlessly on the dark street; it’s only thanks to the lamppost on the sidewalk ahead that he manages to spot an all-black car turning the corner. He barely has time to recognize Nightwing’s smile before the Batmobile screeches to a halt right in front of the trio.

A small gasp escapes Timmy, and his fingers—which were beginning to turn blue—clench the fabric of his suit.

The back door opens on its own, and Nightwing trots over to swing it fully open and quickly climb inside, clearing the way for the two young men. Danny presses his hand against Timmy’s back to urge him to go first; the boy hesitates for only a second before running and clambering into the car as fast as he can. Danny follows close behind, struggling a bit with the bags he’s carrying, but manages to get in without getting much wetter than he already is. He slams the door shut and leans back, letting the Phantom transformation fade away.

He feels eyes on him, and when he looks ahead, he finds Robin in the passenger seat; even with the domino mask, he knows he’s staring at him over his shoulder.

Batman, at least, is a bit more subtle, glancing every few seconds in the rearview mirror as he drives through the streets of Gotham.

“Hey, Dami. How's things going?" his voice has a slight playful tone.

Robin frowns. “Don’t use my civilian name on patrol, Phantom.”

Danny blinks and his eyebrow arches. “We’re inside a car.”

Once again, a hand shaking his arm catches his attention, and when he looks at Timmy, Timmy’s eyes are wide open. “It’s Batman and Robin!” he exclaims in a whisper that, of course, is audible to everyone in the vehicle.

Danny chuckles under his breath and notices that Dick is covering his mouth with his hand to hide his smile.

“Yep, although technically,” Danny replies, looking at Timmy but keeping Robin’s expression in his peripheral vision. “He’s Batman and the newest Robin.”

"I'm the best Robin, the most skilled and the best trained!"

The halfa shrugs, intentionally ignoring the other teenager’s reaction. “Meh, we like Jason’s Robin more, right?”

When he looks at Timmy, his buddy nods enthusiastically. Which only further exasperates the SideKick in the passenger seat.

“Tt.” He clicks his tongue, crossing his arms.

Danny rolls his eyes without anger. “Come on, don’t get upset just because you’re not the favorite.”

“I don’t-”

Without paying attention to him, Danny continues. “Look, just so we’re equal. I’m Danny,” he says, placing his hand on his chest and deliberately ignoring the other teenager’s slightly astonished expression. Then he moves his hand to Timmy’s head, where he combs through the still-slightly-damp curls. “And this is Timmy.”

No one answers him, but he knows that the two in the front seats have saved the information to add to their files as soon as either of them touches the Batcomputer. Actually, he’s surprised that Batman isn’t interrogating him right now, now that he’s got him in an enclosed space.

“So the white hair and green eyes are part of the disguise?” Robin’s question catches him a bit off guard, but he quickly recovers.

“It’s more like a medical condition.” He replies.

It seems to take Robin a second to process his answer before he almost twists his entire torso toward Danny. “What do you mean by—?”

“Robin.” Batman’s deep voice cuts through the air inside the car like a knife through butter, instantly silencing the teenager beside him, who snaps his mouth shut and slumps back into his seat with his arms crossed.

Danny can’t help but narrow his eyes suspiciously at the back of the bat’s head, intrigued by the fact that not only does he not ask the questions he knows he has, but he also stops Robin from doing so. But he won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

For the rest of the ride, they remain in a peaceful silence, interrupted only by Nightwing’s occasional comments and Robin’s muttered replies. Danny only looks away from the tinted window when he feels a weight against his side and smiles as he notices the little ten-year-old boy dozing off against him.

When they finally reach the Batcave, Timmy is fast asleep, little sighs escaping his lips. Batman and Robin go out first, but Nightwing turns to him, his voice soft and whispering so as not to disturb the sleeping child. “I can carry him.” He offers.

Danny denies it even before he finishes speaking. His hands immediately wrap around Timmy’s shoulders in a protective gesture. “No, I can.” he says, in a firm tone. Instead, he hands him the training bag. “Help me with this, please.”

Nightwing, to his credit, doesn’t insist and simply takes the bag with a smile. He slings it over his shoulder and then picks up Timmy’s backpack with his other hand before getting out of the car. Danny waited a few seconds before opening his door and turning to Timmy. Carefully, he lifts him and settles him against his chest, moving him as little as possible so as not to wake him. He gets out of the car carrying him with one hand under his bottom and the other on his back, his head resting on his shoulder, his brown curls tickling his neck.

He follows the three vigilantes through a secondary elevator that drops them off in the garage attached to Wayne Manor, then to the door leading to the kitchen, where the butler, Alfred, awaits them with the lights on.

As they enter, the two birds remove their domino masks and the bat takes off his coat.

“Welcome back.” The man with the mustache greets them, then his gaze turns to Danny. "I assume you’re the guests I was notified about; it’s a shame no one told me there was more than one of you. I’m sorry to inform you that I only prepared one room, but if you’d like to wait, I’ll have another one ready shortly. You could have something to eat in the meantime."

Danny shakes his head slowly, subtly readjusting Timmy in his arms. “It’s okay, Alfred. We can share a bed for tonight; honestly, I just want to change and go to sleep."

Alfred nods knowingly. “Very well then, tomorrow I’ll have another room for you, assuming you’ll be staying for a while?” The question is light, and Danny appreciates it.

“It looks so, thanks Alfred. I’m Danny, by the way, but maybe you’ve heard of me as Phantom." He tilts his head, a mischievous smile.

“Certainly.” The butler nods. His face is as serene and neutral as ever, but his eyes have a playful glint in them. “The most noteworthy story is that of young Master Jason in the abandoned shed.”

Danny chuckles to himself at the memory, holding back so as not to wake Timmy.

“Let me take you to your room, then.”

Nodding, Danny follows the butler down the hallway. He realizes that only Dick is following him, and when he glances over his shoulder where Timmy isn’t leaning, Batman is watching him. “We’ll talk tomorrow.” The man says to him.

Danny just looks straight ahead again, knowing that the father and son will surely stay up discussing and hypothesizing about the events that brought him here tonight with a ten-year-old in tow. It’s something he’ll be able to have fun with tomorrow, for sure.

They climb the stairs and walk down several identical hallways until they reach a door that looks just like the others. Alfred opens it for them, and Danny steps in first, looking around as Alfred flips the light switch by the door. The decor is simple, but it feels cozy.

A double bed against the left wall, with a bedside table next to it and a lamp. On the right, there’s a floor-to-ceiling closet made of dark wood; next to it is a door that must lead to the bathroom, and on the back wall there’s a desk with a chair. Near the left corner at the back, cream-colored curtains conceal a large window. The floor is covered by a carpet that spans almost the entire room, in a dark, wine-red color.

“The bathroom is through that door.” The butler informs him, confirming Danny’s thoughts. At the same time, Dick enters the room behind him and leaves both the gym bag and the backpack at the foot of the bed.

“See you at breakfast.” He says goodbye, stepping out into the hallway with Alfred. “Sleep well.”

“Have a good night.” Alfred says goodbye at his side.

Danny smiles at the pair, genuinely grateful for their hospitality. "Good night."

When the door closes, Danny finally sighs, the tension in his shoulders melting away. He scans the room again before approaching the bed to sit Timmy down gently. “Buddy, you’ve got to take off those wet clothes.”

The boy’s only response is a sleepy murmur, with a slight frown. Danny smiles and shakes his head. Help Timmy pull his hoodie off over his head, then lay him down to take off his shoes. He considers for a moment whether it would be worth trying to get him into his pajamas, but quickly gives up, succumbing to the sleep that weighs on his bones.

He goes to his bag and rummages around until he finds a dry shirt, quickly changes, leaving the wet clothes in the bathroom sink before returning to bed. Luckily, his hair dried on the way.

He uses his powers to tuck Timmy under the covers, levitating him and making him intangible as needed. Once he’s done, he turns off the light and lies on his side at the other end of the bed.

Barely five seconds after closing his eyes, he feels a small body approach him, snuggling against his chest. He smiles, wrapping his arms around Timmy as his core purrs, lulling them both until sleep completely consumes him.

Chapter Text

Danny doesn’t open his eyes right away. He rolls around in the soft, lavender-scented sheets, kicking the blanket in the process, until he ends up face down, where he feels his consciousness fade away for a little while longer. The next time he wakes up, he’s a little more lucid, but it’s not until he slides his arms above his head and stretches like a cat in the sun that he finally opens his eyes.

He sits up slowly in bed, takes a deep breath, and his blue eyes turn to the window with the closed curtains, a hint of suspicion in them. Even without looking outside, he knows that the time isn’t right; something in the atmosphere feels different from the morning.

Even so, it’s the best dream he’s had in months, maybe since he became half-ghost.

Ignoring what that means, he lowers his gaze to the other occupant of the bed, a relaxed smile immediately tugging at his lips as he sees Timmy asleep, practically curled up in a ball on the sheets, with little sighs escaping his parted lips.

He raises a hand to gently shake the boy’s shoulder, interrupted by a yawn so big his jaw cracks, “Timmy, wake up, it’s already daytime… I think."

The ten-year-old shifts and curls up even tighter, at which Danny simply presses a little harder, until two strips of deep blue stare back at him, stunned.

“Time to wake up, buddy.” Danny repeats.

Timmy finally decides to listen to him, slowly sitting up in bed. One of his hands rises to rub his eye with his fist, while the other eye looks at Danny, but without really seeing him.

Danny, unhurried, stays there until Timmy’s brain catches up at its own pace.

Although he doesn’t have to wait long, as soon as both of Timmy’s eyes are open, he immediately scans the room, and wonder slowly creeps across his face—though it’s not as vibrant as it was the night before.

“Are we in Batman’s lair?” he asks in a hoarse voice, but with clear excitement.

Danny makes a thoughtful gesture, looking up. “Technically, Batman’s lair is in the basement, with the real bats; upstairs is Wayne Manor, which is where we are now.”

“Wow…” Timmy sighs.

Danny chuckles under his breath, crawling to the edge of the bed to stand up. “Come on, brush your teeth and let’s go downstairs to see what Alfred has for us to eat.”

“Alfred the butler?” Timmy asks, practically jumping out of bed, his sleep completely overshadowed by the anticipation of meeting characters who, less than 24 hours ago, had only been part of a comic book.

“Well, I doubt Alfred the cat can cook…” the teenager jokes, heading toward the bathroom door.

Timmy tilts his head to one side, like a confused puppy, but quickly straightens it when he realizes something. He looks at his backpack and then at Danny, his eyebrows arched downward.

“I don’t have a toothbrush; I left it in…” The sentence trails off, but Danny understands.

“It's okay, maybe there’s a spare one here; if not, we’ll ask Alfred for one.” He reassures him, looking over his shoulder as he enters the bathroom.

“Won’t he be bother?” the little one asks, following Danny.

“Not at all; he lives to help the residents of this house, I think even literally.” He doesn’t get a response from the little boy, but he files it away to address later.

First, he wants Timmy to eat; hopefully Alfred has already noticed the bony limbs and drawn up a whole meal schedule to correct it.

They check the bathroom together, finding a toothbrush in its unopened packaging on a shelf next to the sink. Timmy can’t quite reach the sink, so Danny levitates him with his powers so he can spit and rinse, spinning him around a couple of times while he brushes his own teeth (with his own toothbrush) and Timmy laughs with delight.
Once their teeth are clean and their faces washed, the pair leaves the room and heads into the deserted hallway. He’s barely taken two steps when he feels Timmy’s hand slip into his. He suppresses a smile and squeezes the small hand as they walk side by side.

It takes them longer than he’d expected to finally find the stairs leading to the dining room, and as if the older man could feel when someone entered his domain, Alfred appears thru a side door (which surely leads to the kitchen) just as they step off the last stair.

“Good morning, both of you.” The butler greets them, but although he doesn’t smile, the corners of his mustache move almost imperceptibly upward. “Although I think it would be more appropriate to say ‘good afternoon,’ since it’s almost four o’clock.”

Danny’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Four in the afternoon?! Did we really sleep that long?”

Alfred nods. “It seems so; I suppose you were very tired. Master Dick went to wake you up, but in his own words: you looked so comfortable that he didn’t have the heart to wake you up.

Unable to help it, Danny’s cheeks flush red and he scratches his neck. “I’m sorry…” he murmurs.

The older man shakes his head briefly. “Not at all; I’m glad you had a good night of sleep.” He looks at both boys equally before extending his hand in an inviting gesture toward the table. “Would you like to eat?”

Before either of them can answer, Timmy’s stomach rumbles. A second later, the boy’s face turns as red as a tomato, and he tries to hide behind Danny.

Beside him, Danny’s shoulders tremble as he tries to hold back his laughter. Alfred, on the other hand, clears his throat to cover it up; even so, his voice has a playfully haughty tone when he speaks again. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Then he turns around to head back to the kitchen.

Danny follows him without complaint, dragging Timmy by the hand. They pass through the swinging door into a spacious kitchen with a long, clean countertop lined with all kinds of top-of-the-line appliances, and a kitchen island surrounded by six high stools seats.

“Normally, lunch and dinner are in the dining room, while breakfast is eaten here.” Alfred explains, in his usual calm tone and affected British accent. He turns to look at the two boys, and suddenly his clear eyes meet Timmy’s directly. “Oh, where are my manners?” My name is Alfred Pennyworth, and I am the head butler of Wayne Manor. Essentially, I take care of everything in this house and for this family, so if you need anything at all, just turn to me—I’ll be delighted to assist you.

“It’s a pleasure, Alfred.” Danny responds with a smile.

Beside him, Timmy shifts on his feet, lifts his gaze from the floor tiles to Alfred, and in a small but clear and measured voice, speaks to him. “I-I’m Timmy Turner, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Alfred.”

Alfred’s eyes narrow with delight, and a flash of pride shines in them. “The pleasure is all mine, but you can just call me Alfred.” Timmy just nods with a shy gesture.
Danny helps Timmy climb into one of the high chairs, where his elbows barely reach the tabletop. He sits down next to him, while Alfred circles around them and heads straight to the kitchen to fetch ingredients.

“Do you have any allergies or dietary preferences I should know about?” he asks over his shoulder.

Although he doesn’t look at them directly, Danny shakes his head. “I’m fine; I’m allergic to blood flowers, but I’m almost completely sure they don’t exist in this dimension.”

“Very well.” Alfred replies after a moment of consideration. Then he turns around, with the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows in neat folds and a light-blue apron to protect his suit. He looks at Timmy but remains silent, not demanding an answer.

Timmy shrugs at being the center of attention, and his hands twist on the polished marble countertop. It takes him a moment to find his voice, and when he replies, he’s hesitant. “I’m, uh, allergic to cucumbers, and… I don’t like the texture of oatmeal… or scrambled eggs; it feels weird and makes me nauseous.” As soon as the words leave him, he anxiously looks up at the older man, his body tense as if he expects a bad reaction from talking about it.

Danny’s heart aches at the thot of what the boy must have gone through to behave that way when simply expressing his needs. Part of him wants to hug him, but the other part holds him back, alert and ready to defend his little brother in an instinctive response to the anxiety he senses in him.

Suddenly something clicks in his mind; the signals he’s been ignoring until now come together like pieces of a puzzle he didn’t even know he was assembling, and the answer is suddenly as clear as day. The need to protect that comes straight from his core, the attachment, the natural affection he feels for Timmy, the sense of comfort he gets from physical contact, how he can perceive the child’s emotions just by looking at him—all are common characteristics of a Fraid Bond.

Oblivious to the epiphany taking place in Danny’s mind, the butler calmly nods at the little boy. His voice grows softer, almost as if he were comforting a frightened animal. “Very well, I’ll keep that in mind.” A second later, he adds: "Thank you for telling me, young Timmy."

Timmy is visibly surprised by the butler’s kind words; his cheeks flush pink, and a small but hopeful smile spreads across his lips. At the same time, Danny’s core vibrates with satisfaction at seeing him, confirming his discovery of the bond. Well, it’s not that it bothers him particularly; if he thinks about it, it was only a matter of time before a Fraid Bond formed with Timmy. Still, he adds it to the list of things to analyze later—a list that keeps growing—but that’s a problem for future Danny.

Resting his chin on his hand and his elbow on the marble, he suddenly realizes how quiet the mansion is, even tho at least three other people are supposed to live there.
"Where are the others?" he asks aloud, watching Alfred’s back as he moves around the kitchen with practiced efficiency.

“Master Bruce gets back from work at five, as does young Master Tim. Master Dick went to Blüdhaven to take care of some errands before returning to spend a few days at the mansion, while young Master Damian stayed after school at his fencing club."

Danny lets out an appreciative murmur. “Maybe you could call Jason later? I’d rather tell the story just once.” As he said the last part, he looked at Timmy, gaging his reaction. The ten-year-old boy returns his gaze before giving him a small nod. Danny smiles with a certain pride in his chest.

Just then, Alfred approaches them and places two plates in front of each of them. “Alright, I’ll ask Master Jason to join us for dinner; I might have to offer to cook his favorite meal to convince him.” The comment makes both boys laugh. “Since dinner will be in a couple of hours, I’ve prepared something light for you. Would you like a drink? We have most of the natural juice options and plain water, of course.

“No soda?” Danny asks, looking at the egg sandwich (the kind made by scrambling the egg in a pan) cut diagonally, revealing the filling of white cheese, ham, and lettuce. It looks and smells amazing. Timmy’s plate is the same as yours.

“Only sugar-free options, and there are also young Master Tim’s energy drinks, against my wishes, I must mention.” The disappointment in the butler’s voice is as clear as a cloudless sky.

Danny purses his lips for a moment to keep from laughing. “A sugar-free soda is fine, thanks Alfred.”

The butler nods and then turns his face toward Timmy. The little boy, who until then had been admiring his steaming plate with bright eyes and his mouth slightly open, looks up with a little start. “Ah, um—could I have some grape juice…?”

“Right away.” Alfred replies without hesitation.

In less than a minute, he places two coasters and then two glass tumblers filled with soda and juice in front of each of them. "Thank you, Mr. Alfred." Timmy murmurs.

"You're welcome." Alfred replies in a warm tone. He doesn’t remind him to use “sir.” at least for now.

…

When they finished eating, Alfred announced that the second room was ready. So, having cleared the dishes and flatly refusing to let them do it, he accompanied them back to the second floor of the house. This time, Danny tried to remember the twists and turns on the way to the room where they had slept.

Whether by coincidence or by plan, the second room was right next to the first. They were almost identical, with only minor differences like the sheets and the wardrobe being in a different place; in a way, they were like hotel rooms. In the end, Timmy got the new room and Danny got the one they’d had on their first night, and with that decided, Alfred left them alone to begin preparing dinner.

Each of them stayed in his room to take a long bath; even so, Danny finished first, stowed his bag in the closet, and went to Timmy’s room with the hoodie he’d given him in his hand. After that, they spent the rest of the time before dinner planning how much they would tell the Bats after dinner, while Danny dried the boy’s hair.

The dinner itself was a curious affair. It was too obvious that everyone at the table except Danny and Timmy had a lot of questions, but the conversations were only about how everyone’s day had gone.

If Danny had to guess, he’d say the house butler had something to do with it, so he’d have to thank him. Now that he was aware of the bond and it was firmly established, it was very easy to notice Timmy’s anxiety, especially around any adult, and although they had planned in advance the answers they would give (they weren’t going to lie, but rather gage how much to say until they felt more comfortable with them), the last thing Danny wanted was for the anxiety of an interrogation by the world’s largest detective family to ruin his appetite.

And honestly, thanks to the Ancients, because Alfred’s dinner was incredible. So much so that Danny would die a second time for it. And if Timmy’s little noises, along with his free hand shaking, were any indication, he was enjoying the meal too.

Although it was fun to watch them all trying to hold themselves together and act like it was a normal dinner, the only one who really seemed calm was Jason, who merely gave them both a curious glance (he lingered a bit longer on Timmy, but the boy didn’t seem to notice as he tried not to implode at the sight of his favorite vigilante) at the start of the meal and, for the rest of it, focused on devouring his food and pretending to ignore everyone.

When the plates were finally empty and the stomachs full, Bruce cleared his throat, looking directly at Danny and Timmy.

“I assume you also know our identities, just like Danny?” When he says it, it doesn’t quite sound like a question. Timmy simply nods, and Bruce stands up a moment later. “Then it would be better to take this conversation to the Cave.”

Next to get up is Dick, who, unlike the rest of his family, smiles at Danny and Timmy. “Alfred doesn’t like vigilante talk in the dining room.” He comments with a slightly amused tone.

Laughing, Danny and Timmy follow the group of vigilantes to the Batcave, and as soon as they enter, the little brown-haired boy begins looking around in amazement, his eyes growing wider and brighter with wonder.

Everyone gathers at a long table located to the right of the central platform, near the large computer that displays the Batman logo as its screensaver. Bruce sits at one end of the table; to his left sits Dick, to his right Damian, and next to him, Tim. Jason prefers to stand with his arms crossed and leans against the computer desk.

Danny takes the chair at the far end of the table, and Timmy takes the one to his right.

“Alright, who wants to start?” the halfa asks, with a slightly mocking tone, leaning back in his chair and lifting his legs to cross them.

“Are you really going to answer all our questions?” Tim, of course, is the first.

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean you’ll get all the truth right now.” Danny looks away. “This is more of a courtesy than anything else, since you let us stay here and all that.”

Tim narrows his eyes suspiciously, but bites his tongue for the moment, acknowledging the teenager’s logic.

“Just to confirm,” Dick says, drawing attention by subtly raising his hand as if they were at a Watchtower conference. “Is this the same Timmy you’ve been telling us about all along?”

Danny chuckles under his breath, and Timmy looks at him curiously with a happy smile. “Yep.”

"Was he the one who finally made you accept Grayson’s and father’s offer? Whenever we offer you a room in the mansion, you refuse and escape thru one of those rare portals of yours." Damian stares at him intently, his piercing, assertive green eyes.

This time, Danny doesn’t respond immediately; instead, he looks over at Timmy, who suddenly focuses on his fingers twisting under the table. As if he could feel his eyes, the little boy looks back at Danny. “Do you still want to tell it yourself? I can do it if you want.” the halfa asks him in a low voice; he knows the others can hear him, but he appreciates their courtesy in staying silent.

Timmy thinks about it for a few seconds before nodding. "I want to do it myself." He replies in a calm but firm voice.

Danny nods, then looks at the others who are watching them in silence. “You’re right, Timmy was the reason I came to you. I knew this was the only place where we’d be safe."

Timmy recognizes Danny’s pause as his cue and takes the floor. “M-my parents…” the little boy lowers his head as he feels his eyes sting and fill with tears. “They— I know they’re not perfect, and I know they were busy working. I’m good at entertaining myself, and I have my f-fish, uh— well, I used to… I thot that if I were a little better or had better grades, they’d be less angry all the time, that they’d spend more time with me. I tried to be quieter and worked really hard at school, I really did, but…” The ten-year-old hadn’t realized, lost in memories of the day before, how his voice was breaking and how everyone else in the room was looking at him with a mix of sadness and resentment toward Timmy’s parents. “I think I said something that made Mom angry, or maybe I did something wrong. Sometimes I forget things, and that bothers them too, so Dad yelled and—and Mom got up from her chair, she…” His trembling hand went straight to his already healed cheek, as if he could still feel the sting of the slap.

At that point, Timmy’s throat closed up with emotion, and his blue eyes barely held back tears as he shrank into himself as if trying to make himself as small as possible. Even so, no more words were needed; the mere gesture was more than enough for everyone to intuit what happened next.

Danny can’t bear his little brother’s pain any longer, which is reflected in his own core throught their bond, and with a leap he stands up to wrap Timmy in a tight hug.

After almost a minute during which only the youngest’s sobs could be heard at the table. The small, broken voice continues, half-muffled by Danny’s shirt where Timmy hides his face. “I-I ran to my room and hid in the closet to— to call Danny.”

Without being asked, Danny takes over the conversation, his hand slowly rubbing Timmy’s back as his eyes, which show a subtle greenish tint, look at the vigilantes. “As soon as he called me, I knew something was wrong, so I went to find him and didn’t hesitate to get him out of there. But I couldn’t take him to my dimension—”

“Wait, your dimension?” Tim interrupts him.

“Aren’t you from the same dimension?” Bruce continues.

The halfa blinks in confusion before picking up the thread of the conversation. “Oh, yeah. No. We’re not from the same dimension."

“But he recognizes us— does that mean that in Timmy’s dimension we’re also a comic book story?” the insomniac tilts his head, looking up as his fingers type at lightning speed on a tablet they don’t know where he got or when.

“In fact, I think you are in several dimensions. We haven’t sat down to compare details, but they always agree on the basic points of your stories.

“Is there any explanation for that?” Danny shrugs in response to the question. In his arms, Timmy has calmed down and pulls his face away to rub his eyes with the back of his hand.

“I guess your lives are so unique that they repeat in one way or another, but who knows— I don’t make the multidimensional rules.”

Jason sighs. “That’s not worrying at all.”

“Why couldn’t you take him to your dimension?” is Bruce’s next question.

Danny looks away again, his brow furrowed as he bites his cheek. When he finally responds, his voice takes on a brusque tone, but with a painful undertone that he struggles to hide. “I’ll just say it wasn’t safe anymore, for either of us.”

The halfa feels small arms wrap around him and squeeze him, and when he looks down, he meets a pair of blue, deer-like eyes filled with concern. Danny, his heart aching, tries to force a reassuring smile.

“Now you’re both safe.” Dick is the one who says this, with a soft but confident smile that somehow makes both boys’ hearts feel lighter just by looking at him.

Bruce, tho it takes him a few seconds, nods. His voice, normally dry and clipped, takes on an almost paternal tone perfected over the years. “You can stay as long as you need, and if you want to start a new life in Gotham, we’ll help you with whatever you need.”

"...thank you," Danny's response, tho brief, reflects the relief and gratitude he feels right now.

Timmy doesn’t lag behind, pulling completely away from Danny to look at the group of bats again. "Thank you," he whispers.

“Sounds good to me,” Jason says suddenly, his face showing an unusual, mocking delight. "Now I’ll have even more excuses to call you “replacement,” replacement."

Tim, upon hearing it, rolls his eyes and goes back to focusing on his tablet. “Just say Tim and Timmy, it’s not that hard.”

The crime boss shakes his head. “I don’t think so.” But then he realizes that the little boy they’re talking about is staring at him. “Is there anything you want to tell me, kid?” Although the words might sound brusque, the tone he uses is even softer than usual for the ex-Robin.

Timmy, on the other side of the table, fidgets with his fingers, clearly hesitating over whether or not he should say what he’s thinking. When Jason is about to lose the little patience he has left, the boy gathers his courage.

“Um! Actually, you’re my favorite vigilante of all.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrow into a grimace. “I don’t think I—”

“Also,” Timmy continues, without losing the strength in his voice. "You're my favorite Robin."

That leaves the infamous Red Hood speechless for several seconds, his gaze inscrutable as everyone stares at him in near-stupefied silence. When the man reacts, he chuckles under his breath, his broad shoulders shaking with the gesture. He looks back at Timmy, but his eyes suddenly have a warm glint in them.

“Thanks, kiddo.” With his thumb, he points to himself. “If you ever need someone to disappear, call me. I know how to make it look like an accident."

The other three bird-themed vigilantes look at the resurrected one with expressions ranging from concern to disapproval. Bruce looks like he’s been given a gift and aged ten years in an instant. Danny raises an eyebrow with an amused expression. Timmy, on the other hand, looks like Christmas came early.

…

Later that night, after Danny and Timmy had answered a few more questions from the Bats (mostly information for the identification papers they’d have to get and some about Danny’s ghost powers), everyone went back up to the mansion, except for Bruce and Tim, who were sure to stay up late gathering information or forging documents.

That’s how they realize Alfred has put them in the family section, with Dick’s room across from Danny’s, Damian’s across from Timmy’s, and the one Jason used to sleep in on the rare occasions he was allowed, next to Damian’s.

Danny says goodbye to little Timmy at his bedroom door and goes into his own. He gets ready to sleep and collapses onto the bed.

He doesn’t know exactly how much time has passed when he feels someone climbing into bed beside him. Even half-asleep, it only takes a second for his core to recognize the presence of his bond, bringing a small, sleepy smile to his face against the pillow.

He cracks open his eyes, knowing from his friends’ accounts that they must be glowing subtly in the darkness of the room, and focuses on his little brother, who is curled up on his side under his blankets, just like him. Large, blue, deer-like eyes meet his.

“What’s up, buddy?” Danny whispers, his voice hoarse with sleep.

“Sorry for waking you up.” the other whispers back.

“Nah, it’s okay. Did you have a bad dream?” Danny insists, moving a little closer to the boy with the tousled curls.

Timmy shakes his head against the pillow. “I wanted to sleep here… but I’ll leave if it bothers you.”

“Not at all,” the halfa replies. They remain silent for a while, letting the stillness of the night envelop them. “What did you think of them?”

Timmy seems to think about it for several seconds. “They seem friendly… I like being here.”

"Good."

“Do you like it?” This time it’s Timmy’s turn to ask.

“It has its good points.” They stay silent for a while longer, until Timmy’s eyes grow heavier and sleep once again pulls Danny under, his core purring at the presence of his bond. "Good night, Timmy."

"Good night, Danny."

Chapter Text

The next day, Danny and Timmy wake up with rhythmic knocks on the door and Alfred's voice telling them breakfast is ready. After saying good morning, Timmy goes back to his room and Danny gets ready in the bathroom. They meet in the hallway ten minutes later and go down to the kitchen together.

There they meet Damian, Tim (who, ironically in Danny's opinion, seems dead to the world), Jason, and Dick. Alfred is serving breakfast, and there is no sign of the head of the family.

“Master Bruce left early for a meeting,” Alfred explains when the halfa asks.

The breakfast, abundant and delicious, is accompanied by Dick's cheerful conversation and sporadic responses from the rest, with Tim beginning to participate after his second cup of coffee. Timmy and Damian are the least talkative, but Danny hopes it's only a matter of time before he feels comfortable with the others and brings out the loud, energetic personality that characterizes him.

“Hey, Danny,” just the person he's thinking about calls his attention. Danny stops with his mouth half open and looks to his left. He makes a questioning noise, and Timmy, his face unexpectedly expressionless, asks, “If you live here, does that mean this house is haunted now?”

The table suddenly falls silent, all eyes on Timmy, but the little boy, to his credit, doesn't let himself be intimidated this time and keeps his face turned toward Danny, waiting for an answer with the seriousness of someone discussing the fate of the world.

It takes all his strength not to laugh and act casual, but the words come to him like lightning, never missing an opportunity to tease the vigilantes a little. “Oh! I forgot to mention it last night, but yes, now this whole house is haunted.” Then he smiles at his little brother and ruffles his hair before returning to his breakfast as if nothing had happened. “Thanks for reminding me, buddy.”

He can't quite tell if Timmy believes him or is pretending, but the ten-year-old certainly seems happy with the answer. “Cool!”

It takes a full five seconds before the other four at the table snap out of their stupor. Five seconds in which Danny uses all his self-control not to burst out laughing and choke on his food. That would be a waste.

“Wait, wait, the mansion is haunted?” If Danny had to guess, he'd say Dick's skin has suddenly turned half white. It's a shame he doesn't have a phone to capture this.

“That's absurd.” Damian snorts, the ex-assassin seems bored by the subject, but Danny can tell that his brow has a new line that wasn't there a minute ago.

Danny, with all the calm he can muster, moves his cutlery around his plate with a casual gesture. He looks up and puts on the same expression he used to wear when he lied to his parents. “Nope, it's totally real. I'm a ghost, and since I live here now, the mansion is haunted,” he pauses, as if thinking about something, but in reality he's trying not to laugh. “Besides, that means you're all automatically cursed.” He intentionally lets his powers give his eyes a subtle radioactive green glow, while flashing a smile that should otherwise be reassuring. “But don't worry, you won't feel it... yet.”

The table falls silent again, no one touching their plate except Danny and Timmy, who looks curiously cheerful even with the (totally false) possibility of being cursed and living in a haunted house (also totally false). When he glances at him, their eyes meet for a moment and Danny recognizes that mischievous sparkle. A smile instantly pulls at his lips, his core flutters with excitement, and he knows without a doubt that Timmy is going to thrive in this family and that his new life is going to be a lot of fun.

“Should we call Deadman?”