Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If someone had ever told Tim that he would end with a lapful of marriage proposals when he got up that very same morning, he would have raised an eyebrow at them, imagined Ra’s Al Ghul was back in town and marched right back to bed to pretend the day had not yet arrived.

But no one had been merciful enough to tell him so, and therefore, he was blissfully unaware of the cruel twist of fate awaiting him when he entered Gotham’s Public Library, ready for some time alone with his favorite books and maybe a hacking job or two.

Depending on his mood.

But as he was, once again following Artemis… no, Orion Fowl – giggle, Orion Fowl was just so wrong – through his adventures, and pretending he was not laughing like a kid as the protagonist was about to get a hoof to the head, and he felt a gentle tug at his pant leg and the sudden dread of intuition curling in his stomach, he found himself caught off guard when he found himself staring at three pairs of blue eyes varying in intensity and shade.

He blinked.

Three pairs of eyes blinked back.

A small hand was still clinging to his pant leg while another hand found its way into his sweater.

He sighed.

“Who did you piss off this time, I wonder,” he said with a resigned air as one of the little kids gasped, covering his small mouth with both hands.

“You said a bad word!” he gasped, giggling. “Your Ma’s gonna wash your mouth with soap!”

“Right,” Tim shrugged. “I’m Tim?”

“We know,” another boy said solemnly, showing the teen a scrap of paper with a hurried note that read simply: ‘Look for Tim at Gotham’s Library.’

“Clever,” Tim admitted, taking the solemn-faced boy in his arms and placing him on top of the table. “Did you write that yourself?”

The toddler frowned, his severe expression ruined completely by his chubby cheeks.

“I don’t think so,” he replied.

“He had it in his hands when we woke up, Mr. Tim, sir!” the other boy said happily, jumping into the table to sit by his companion’s side.

“You do not seem like a bad man,” the third toddler said evenly, small hands crossed over an even smaller chest. “You are deemed a worthy caretaker until our parents can collect us.”

“Thank you, I guess?” Tim said, picking the third child up and resting the small body between both boys. “Do I get your names or I have to guess?”

“Don’t you know them already?” the first toddler asked, scowling and Tim couldn’t help but smile at the similarity in such little face with the one that had tormented him during the last year.

“Of course I do, but it is the polite thing to do to ask you first,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

“Prove it,” the boy growled. “Who am I?”

“You are Bruce Wayne,” Tim said, his hands rising to show he was not a threat.

“Oh!” the second boy giggled, jumping in place. “Me too! Do me too! You know me too, right?”

“Of course I do, Clark,” the teen laughed, caressing the boy’s dark hair. “I know you and Bruce, and of course Princess Diana here, right?”

The girl nodded, her lips curling into a shy smile.

“He is our caretaker, Bruce, see?” Diana told the sullen boy, her hand reaching for Tim’s. “A most suitable one.”

“True,” Bruce said, his whole body relaxing.

“Thank you,” Tim said, bowing. “So, give me a second while I call your ah… parents… yeah, to tell them you arrived safely and we’ll… er… play?”

Diana and Clark nodded obediently, the small Kryptonian barely holding still by sheer force of will while the little amazon kept staring around in awe, her hand never releasing Tim’s. It was probably her first time in the world of man and she should be nervous.

“Don’t worry, Princess,” he told her gently. “I will protect you.”

“I know,” she said happily. “You have the blessing of the Gods in you.”

Tim forced a smile on his face as he reached for his communicator. Surely Mr. Jordan and Mr. Allen would have a laugh as they listened to this. If they were not toddlers wandering the streets themselves.

“Hello? Red Robin, we’re a little busy right now…” Hal said as he took the call, his fingers frantically typing on the League’s computer.

“Mr. Jordan, I’ve got them,” Tim said , rolling his eyes. “Who did they…” his eyes strayed to Clarks eager face. “…annoy… this time?”

“They are with you?” Hal asked, relief evident in his voice. “Thank god, I’ll call the others then. And it was Circe… again.”

Tim nodded, understanding the rivalry the ancient sorceress still held against The League.

“Should I take them to the base?” Tim asked, eyeing the kids as they whispered among eachother.

“I don’t think that’s wise, really,” Hal replied apologetically. “We are all looking for the woman right now. Would it be too much if we…”

“No,” Tim interrupted with a sigh. “I’ve got them. Just ummm hurry up? I don’t know whether Clark and Bruce are… potty trained?”

“Of course I am!” Bruce protested, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What’s potty trained?” Clark asked, tilting his head.

Tim felt the urge to face-palm, especially when he could hear Mr. Allen laughing in the background.

“We’ll make this our top priority, Tim, I promise,” said Hal, trying to hush Barry’s chuckles. “Until then… good luck?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Green Lantern out.”

Tim stared at his comm for a second before turning to the three toddlers staring eagerly at him, their chubby faces full of energy despite their different personalities.

“Any of you hungry?” he asked, forcing a calm smile into his face. “How about ice cream?”

He was rewarded by two happy cheers while the Amazonian princess shyly accommodated herself in his lap, her hands holding his.

“What’s ice cream?” she asked, blinking.

He simply ruffled her hair.

*

Two hours later and three satisfied toddlers staring in awe at the ducklings lazily swimming in their pond over Gotham’s Park, Tim decided he was as traumatized as he was delighted from all that he had learnt from the powerful founders of the League.

And then some.

For example the fact that Diana, strong and brave Diana, was so shy she barely let go of his hand to grab her own ice cream cone and that every time anyone approached them she would hide herself behind his legs in search for shelter – which was, in his opinion, as adorable as it was disturbing – and that her cheeks would color every time he showered her with praise when she used her own super strength to keep Clark from hovering over the ground – her special mission for the day, he had told her – and would admonish him softly whenever he forgot to hide his special abilities in front of civilians.

He also learnt that giving sugar to the young Kryptonian had been a very, very bad idea – and really, he should have known, having grown around Kon most of his life – because the kid could barely stay still on his own, much less on a sugar rush and that he had the attention span of a puppy, but he would make sure never to leave his side for too long, less he lose his guardian – which really meant that Tim got dragged around by a super strong toddler who didn’t really know how to control his strength yet – but otherwise was really sweet and held his manners almost like a banner and would threaten his companions that his Ma’ would get revenge for him if they kept making fun of his accent.

Which lead him to Bruce – Oh, gods, Bruce – who was a right terror. If Dick ever said that Damian’s behavior came from Talia’s side again he would instantly disagree and share an amused eye roll with Alfred, because Bruce was a little dictator bent on world domination – which meant he was the one encouraging most of their adventures so far – and the one that demanded he be carried around at all times and cuddled because, as a normal human being, he required more care than a floating farm-boy and a savage girl. Diana had pouted at that, tugging on Tim’s hand urgently. Clark, on the other hand, had laughed, not realizing he was being insulted.

Which was the reason why Diana was clinging to his hand, eyes wide, Clark was stuck to his right leg, giggling and Bruce had his little arms wrapped around his neck while he clung to his back like a fierce koala, his cheek resting on Tim’s shoulder quite comfortably.

“Can we get a duckling, Mister Tim?” Clark asked, tugging on his pant to catch his attention – and thus making Bruce and Diana pout, not that Tim would notice, he refused to do so – and pointing at the little animals quacking happily.

“I don’t think so, Clark,” he said, kneeling to caress the boy’s hair.

“Why?” Clark asked, pouting.

“Well, they seem really happy here,” Tim explained patiently. “Plus, I think that if you took one of the ducklings with you, his brothers and sisters would miss him or her, don’t you think?”

“Most wise,” Diana nodded, resting her face on his side. “Families should not be separated.”

“Plus, ducklings that young could die. Don’t be silly, Clark,” Bruce commented, his cheek rubbing against Tim’s shoulder for attention.

Clark stared at the ducklings with wide eyes.

“I don’t want the ducklings to die!” he said in fright.

“Then let’s leave them where they are, okay, Clark?” Tim said gently, smiling at the boy.

“Okay, Mr. Tim,” the toddler replied, pouting.

“Good boy.”

“I was the one to tell him, Tim,” Bruce protested, his own pout curling his lips adorably.

“Yes, you are a good boy too, Bruce, I’m proud of you,” Tim laughed, turning his head to nuzzle the boy’s cheek with his nose.

“Am I good too, Tim?” Diana asked shyly, her cheeks flushing a bright red.

“That you are, Diana,” he agreed, shaking his head. “All of you are very good.”

“Yay!” Clark cheered, floating again. “Mister Tim congratulated us!”

“Mother will be pleased,” Diana grinned, showing her missing front teeth and making Tim want to go ‘aawww’ on her. “You will come to Themyscira with me to tell her, of course, right Tim?”

Tim was about to explain to the little girl that his presence on the island would not be very welcomed when Bruce’s arms tightened around his neck.

“He can’t,” he told Diana. “He’s gonna stay here in Gotham with me, right Tim?”

“What?” Clark complained. “You are not coming to Kansas with me, Mister Tim?”

Tim stared at the three of them in turn, wondering if there was some secret toddler-code he was missing because he didn’t really see the need to accompany all of them to their respective houses because, well, really, for all they knew he wouldn’t be much of an improvement of their happily childish lives – even Bruce’s for all he knew – therefore it was really strange to go there.

“I will visit you all, I promise,” he said finally, smiling.

Diana, Bruce and Clark frowned, their chubby cheeks puffing.

“Not acceptable,” Bruce said evenly, his cheek rubbing against Tim’s. “You are going to be my wife, Tim, you can’t go around visiting Clark and Diana when we marry.”

“Ah?” Tim blinked, eyes wide.

“Hey! Mr. Tim is going to be my wife! Ma’ and Pa’ will love him!” Clark protested, crossing his little arms over his chest.

“That’s stupid!” Diana said, pouting. “Tim is a boy, boys don’t become wives. He’s going to be a husband. My husband.”

Right.

How could Tim forget that part of child development? Really, because at the time he was that age he was practically asexual himself and the idea of marriage was deemed unnecessary and disruptive to his studies.

Now that Tim thought about it, his childhood had skipped one too many stages, apparently.

Clark and Bruce glared at eachother, chest puffing. Diana’s lower lip trembled, her wide blue eyes filled with tears as she tightened her hold on Tim’s hand until the teen felt his bones were about to break and Tim could only close his eyes and hope for a miracle.

“Guys!” he protested, removing Bruce from his back and Diana from his side. “I can’t marry either of you!”

All three children pouted, their eyes wide.

“Why?” they asked in unison.

“Err…”

“There is someone else, is there?” Bruce hissed, little hands clenched.

“Who do we have to defeat to win your affection, Tim?” Diana prodded, hands clasping over her chest.

“We can do it!” Clark assured, grinning in excitement.

“Uummm,” Tim hummed nervously, feeling utter relief when a red blur approached them. “Him?”

Mr. Allen stopped in front of the group, a wide smile on his face.

“Tim, there you are! We’ve been looking for you all!” he said, hands on his hips.

All three toddlers turned to him, eyes narrowed.

“He’s the villain!” Clark growled.

“Guys…?” Barry asked, blinking.

“Such indignity must not go unpunished,” hissed Diana, hands clenched at her sides.

“Mr. Allen, you’d better run…” Tim commented, feeling his own cheeks color when he realized just what he had done.

“Huh? Why?” The Flash asked.

“Attack!” Bruce cried, jumping into the man’s middle and tackling him to the ground where his companions joined in the beating of a lifetime for the speedster.

“Because they think you are an obstacle?” Tim whimpered, covering his face with both hands. He felt guilty, of course, because he was putting Mr. Allen against Earth’s Mightiest Toddlers, but not too guilty, really, because the man’s laughter still echoed in his ears, therefore, he decided that he should stay out of the fight – he was just a powerless human, after all – and contact Mr. Jordan for back up.

“TIM!” Barry wailed in pain when Bruce’s teeth sunk into his arm and Diana’s feet kicked him on the shin while Clark’s little hands pulled at his cowl and hair at the same time.

“Sorry, Mr. Allen?” he said, trying his hardest not to smile.

*

Thirty minutes later Mr. Jordan appeared with Zatanna who, after laughing for almost another hour, undid the spell and left three superheroes disoriented and one relieved Tim Drake.

“You okay, kid?” Hal asked, checking on Tim.

“Yeah,” the teen said, shrugging. “I’m just going to miss them a little. It was an enlightening experience to say the least.”

“I bet,” Barry groaned, holding onto his bruised side. “Who knew Batman was a biter?”

“Too much information, Barry,” Hal laughed, patting his friend on the shoulder. “Anything else we should know before we head to HQ, Tim?”

“Well,” Tim said, shaking his head. “I was this close to be the new King of Themyscira, the Matriarch of the House of El and Damian’s stepmom, apparently.”

Barry and Hal gapped, staring at the teen’s serene smile.

“Is that a joke?” Barry asked in disbelief.

“Obviously,” Tim laughed. “Tell Bruce I’ll be at home, okay? I have this sudden urge for a cup of tea and Alfred’s company.”

“Sure thing, Kid, rest,” Hal said softly. “You earned it.”

Tim smiled waving at the heroes before walking away, ignoring the way Barry’s and Hal’s eyes followed his every move until he disappeared from sight.

“Should we tell him his comm line was open the whole time?” Hal asked once he was sure Tim was out of earshot. Barry grinned, shaking his head.

“Nah, he’d try to delete the feed and how are we going to force Bruce and Diana to attend this year’s Christmas party without it?” Flash said.

“True,” Hal agreed, eyeing the recovering superheroes deviously. 

Chapter Text

Mystical thunder in the skies and one or two Golden beams of light crossing it like a rainbow is nothing Tim isn’t used to – he was a Titan, and weird occurrences were common for the team – but the golden chariot descending into his terrace and a Greek God – he’s fucking shinning, he has to be a god – studying him like he is the most curious thing he has seen, definitely take this week’s honorable mention for the What The Fuck awards…

“Timothy Drake?” the god asks, his voice booming.

… especially since Cassie and Kon are flying into his apartment behind the chariot, Kon’s eyes wide and a little frightened and Cassie’s narrowed and furious.

“Tim, what did you do!” she demands, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Err…” Tim blinks. “Hello, Cassie, nice to see you as well.”

“Dude! You sure did it this time!” Kon says, landing by his side.

“Whatever you two think I did can wait, you know?” he sighs, patting  his best friend on the shoulder eyes set on the god still staring at him in curiosity.

“Apollo,” Cassie says, her hands wringing her shirt nervously. “Tim obviously made a mistake and is not aware of the situation.”

“I do not believe it is of consequence,” the god – Apollo, really? – replies, shaking his head. “He has been summoned and shall answer accordingly.”

“Summoned?” Tim asks, tilting his head. “Why?”

The god turns to him once more, his golden eyes piercing.

“You were engaged to Princess Diana of Themyscira,” the god frowns. “And yet you have ignored your duty and have not even approached Queen Hippolyta as custom dictates. My sister Athena is greatly offended.”

“Dude, Tim’s not engaged to Wonder Woman,” Kon frowns. “He wouldn’t be that stupid, right? Tell him, Tim!”

Cassie and Kon turn to their friend, eyes wide when they notice how the other teen is slowly losing color.

“Tim!” Cassie cries in disbelief.

“Dude!” Kon yelps.

“She was four!” Tim defends himself. “It doesn’t count and I said no!”

“She is a Princesss and you a plebeian, Timothy Drake,” Apollo replies, his frown deepening. “Your opinion on the matter was never necessary. You should feel honored.”

Tim bangs his head against his desk, wondering why his troubles  always had to turn towards his complicated – and quite inexistent – love life. Cassie, finally understanding the situation, pats his shoulder sympathetically while Kon seems to perk up after much consideration.

“Dude, you have an open invitation to Themyscira! Sweet! Can I go too? I’m your best man, right?” he beams, only to receive a fist to the head by Cassie. “Ouch!”

“Not. Helping. Kon,” Tim hisses, eyes narrowed.

“I am waiting, Timothy Drake,” Apollo growls impatiently. “I am to take you to Themyscira for your upcoming nuptials.”

“What?” Tim, Cassie and Kon cry in unison, eyes wide.

“I can’t marry Wonder Woman!” Tim protests.

“You can, or aren’t you virile enough, mortal?” Apollo hisses.

Tim flushes.

“Not discussing that with you,” he mutters, banging his head once more against the wood.

“You will not dishonor Princesss Diana, mortal,” the god threatens, his power flaring and momentarily blinding the teens.

Tim whimpers.

Cassie reaches for her lasso, ready to defend her friend when she notices the pensive glint on Kon’s eyes. It’s the same glint all the Teen Titans have come to fear and associate with one of the young clone’s most brilliantly retarded ideas, usually the ones that land them in trouble, but before she can open her mouth to stop him, the clone has beamed at the god.

“Tim can’t marry Wonder Woman,” he says confidently, arms crossing over his chest. “Her claim is invalid.”

Tim and Cassie gape at him.

Apollo’s eyes widen.

“Explain yourself, mortal,” the god demands.

“Well, the patriarch of my house made his proposal first,” Kon says happily. “Therefore, if Tim were to marry, his claim tops hers, sorry dude.”

“The mortal called Superman?” Apollo asks, eyeing the red S on Kon’s shirt.

The clone nods happily.

“So, you should return to mount Valhalla or whatever and tell your friends the wedding’s cancelled,” he says, smirking.

Tim looks at his friend gratefully, no wonder Kon is his best friend, he is a genius, – he might even kiss him for this – of course he remembers the fact that Clark had asked for Tim’s hand in marriage as well, he even had a picture of his mentor as a toddler in his phone, the chubby face smudged with ice cream, but Cassie is staring at Kon in horror, her eyes wide and her hands covering her mouth.

“Oh, Kon,” she whimpers. “You dumbass.”

“What?” the teen asks, insulted.

“Another claim for the mortal Timothy Drake,” Apollo says, nodding. “Very well. The dispute shall be resolved in Amazon custom.”

Without another word, Tim is bodily dragged into the god’s golden chariot, fiery horses galloping away and into the sky before either Kon or Cassie can stop them.

***

“We have to what?” Superman asks, eyes wide when he is magically materialized before Queen Hippolyta, Diana and Bruce are standing by his side, the Amazon Princesss’ face a deep red.

“Mother, I explained to you that the proposal was an accident,” she tries, blue eyes pleading at the Queen regally sitting in her marble throne.

“Our laws are unbreakable and incorruptible, Diana, you know this,” the queen speaks. “Athena has spoken. You three who have laid claim on the mortal Timothy Drake at the same time will have a duel to decide who is worthy of his hand in marriage.”

Diana buries her face in her hands, a long-suffering huff escaping her lips.

“I’m so sorry, Timothy,” she says.

“It’s okay,” Tim sighs. “I’m kind of used to this by now.”

Batman narrows his eyes, staring at the way the Amazons have perches his protégé in a golden pedestal like an offering to the gods, his clothes have been replaced by a silk tunic that accentuates his slender frame and there is even a crown of white lilies adorning his hair.

Tim is literally dressed as both, the blushing bride for the wedding and the tasty prize of this tournament.

He scowls.

“What are the rules for this tournament?” he snaps, arms crossing over his chest.

Hippolyta raises an eyebrow.

“All three of you shall fight at the same time, trying to overpower your opponents with your own abilities,” she explains. “As it is customary, the last one standing will be declared the winner in the eyes of our goddess.”

“What if we all lose?” Clark asks idly, a mischievous light sparkling in his eyes.

The Queen frowns at him.

“Athena in all her wisdom would see this as a lie, Super Man, and therefore you would be considered in forfeit of your right to claim,” she says, her face expressionless. “Only the warriors that fight with all their might are worthy in the eyes of the gods.”

Superman’s shoulders slump.

“Sorry, Tim,” he says, staring at the teen apologetically.

Tim tries to smile at him.

“At least you tried?” he says, trying to tug the hem of his robe down. The thing was uncomfortably short and Tim feels exposed in front of so many women.

Cassie, his elected Maid of Honor – god, a maid of honor – pats his knee reassuringly, her own smile nervous.

Kon, on the other hand, his openly staring at him, his hands clearly itching to snap a picture.

Tim glares at him.

“Don’t even think about it,” he hisses, crossing his arms over his chest. The clone gives him a dopey smile.

“Too late.”

“Begin,” Queen Hippolyta says, her voice echoing over the arena and alerting the teens that the duel to decide Tim’s fate has begun. All three turn to the center of the arena instantly, their eyes focused on their mentors who have gathered at the center, most likely discussing among themselves what will their next move be.

“What are we going to do,” Clark hisses at Diana and Bruce, eyes worried. “Tim is a good kid, but I don’t think Lois would appreciate being replaced by him.”

“I’m so sorry,” Diana apologizes again, her eyes downcast. “I had no idea this could happen.”

Bruce eyes them both, his hand reaching to pull back his cowl and let his eyes meet his companions.

“I’m sorry too,” he says simply, shaking his head to let his hair move against the wind.

Clark and Diana blink at him.

“For what?” the Kryptonian asks, tilting his head.

“For this,” Bruce replies, reaching into his belt to pull a familiar golden ring, slip it around his finger and then send his fist crashing into Superman’s face.

The Man of Steel only has seconds to look surprised and then flies in the air due to momentum alone only to fall flat into the sand, face first.

Unconscious.

“Clark!” Diana cries, eyes wide only to shudder in fright when she feels Bruce’s gauntlets slip a rope around her arms.

She looks down, paling.

No, not a rope, her own golden lasso is been wrapped around her, completely immobilizing her.

“Bruce?” she whimpers weakly but Batman doesn’t even bother to listen to her before he is pulling the lasso and making her spin in the air before he releases her, sending her straight into a stone pillar.

The arena falls silent in shock.

Bruce turns to Queen Hippolyta.

“Can my bride and I go now?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

The Queen nods, gapping.

Bruce scowls, walking towards Tim’s pedestal and pulling the teen into his arms.

“Let’s go,” he says, shaking his head when the other Teen Titans scurry to get away from them.

“Okay,” Tim whispers, wrapping his arms around his mentor.

As they walk back towards the Batplane Tim can’t help himself.

“Are we married by Amazon Law now?” he asks.

“Yes,” Bruce answers, shrugging.

Tim sighs, resting his head on the other man’s shoulder.

“Martian Law, Anti-Earth law, and now Amazon Law,” he mutters, eyes heavy. “One more and Damian will really start calling me ‘Stepmother’.”

Bruce looks at him, his mouth slowly curling into a small smirk and his hand reaching to ruffle his hair.

“Brat.”