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It wasn’t a secret to everyone around them that Tim and Damian’s relationship had always been…strange. And that was a severe understatement. Because there were not enough words to describe what they actually had.
Before they were dating, they had already hated each other. Their very first encounter where Damian had almost killed Tim was something their friends and family knew. Even though they’d eventually improved a few years after Damian’s death, there was no denying the scathing insults and the occasional fist fight. However, those felt entirely different than when they’d met. Along with the aggressiveness and the tension was something deeper. Something that had to do with Damian dragging a passed out Tim all the way from the Batcave into his bed and making sure he got a decent rest. Or with Tim sneaking into Damian’s bedroom when the boy battled his nightmares and holding him tight until the tears stopped running down his face.
There would be tender moments just like those, and then the next day both of them would be right back at spitting into each other’s faces. They never addressed it. They didn’t have to. Other people couldn’t understand them, but the youngest Bats understood what they had and that was more than enough.
The problem was everybody else trying to interfere—which was deemed unacceptable by both boys. Their relationship was theirs, nobody had the right to say anything about it. If Damian was already toxic toward Tim and vice versa, they were even more so to the people around them who clearly had opinions, be it friends or family.
Damian was screaming at Tim for almost getting caught in an explosion trying to save the younger teen first. His face was flushed red and his usually stoic green eyes were filled with passionate fury. Tim had always thought Damian looked much more beautiful when he was angry at him, despite the cutting words making his jaw clench and his hands ball into fists.
“You imbecile!” He yelled at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing through the Batcave. “You are supposed to be the smart one! Just because you are an incompetent fool does not mean you get to throw away your life for mine! I would have never forgiven you if you had died back there!”
“Good thing that if I’d died, I wouldn’t have to listen to you shouting about how stupid I was for wanting to save you above everything else,” Tim gritted his teeth, blue eyes narrowed into slits.
“I would have gone to Hell and killed you again myself!” Damian retaliated, grabbing the front of Tim’s cape and bringing their faces closer. “I would have made your soul regret ever leaving me behind!”
His boyfriend was so fired up, so furious that Tim just wanted to close that little distance between them and kiss him senseless. Just smash their lips together and take Damian’s breath away until they were both panting from lack of air, maybe even slam him against the nearest surface and tear down that suit to have his way with the boy. Tim had almost lost him to death again if he hadn’t literally pushed Robin out of the building seconds before the bomb went off. If Damian hadn’t made the split second decision to grab onto him just as he’d fallen, then Tim would have been buried under the rubble and would most likely not even be here to have this argument.
What had happened was a fear that had seized Tim’s heart and all he wanted to do now was to reassure himself Damian was still here—that Tim himself hadn’t died either and he could still feel him glowering and screaming and so close to kissing—
The older teen’s mind went scarily blank when Damian was suddenly pulled off of him by a harsh grip on his arm.
“Stand down, Damian,” Bruce grunted disapprovingly with a glare. “I agree that Tim shouldn’t have been self-sacrificing, but that doesn’t mean you should yell in his face about it and grab him like a brute with no discipline—”
“Let go of him!”
Tim’s enraged screech caught Bruce with so much surprise that he almost flinched as he was roughly shoved away, forcing him to release his hold on Damian as he stumbled backwards. Batman didn’t stumble. Not over something so mundane as a push. But Tim had done it in such an aggressive way that Bruce had to take a step back to steady himself. He directed his shock gaze from his second youngest to Damian, then to the defensive stance Tim had taken in front of him with his shoulders hunched like a wild predator about to pounce.
In a way, he did feel like one. He was so mad at Bruce for daring to interfere. For using such force on his Damian and calling him a brute. He had no right.
“Tim—” The man started, but was promptly cut off.
“Don’t you ever do that again!” Tim shouted, voice shaking with barely contained anger. “Damian wasn’t doing anything wrong! When will you stop treating him as if he’s some kind of a beast? He’s just worried about me, you don’t get to fucking grab him and call him names!”
An unforgiving finger was jabbed in Bruce’s face while Tim’s other hand took a hold of Damian’s wrist behind him protectively.
“Next time you talk to him like that in front of me, it’s going to be a punch instead of a shove, you hear me? And I don’t give a damn what you think. I didn’t get into this life by listening to you, old man.”
Tim’s heart was pounding wildly with overwhelmed emotions by the time they reached the cave showers after he’d stormed out, pulling his younger lover along without a single glance back at the brooding overgrown manchild. He had just about enough of Bruce’s unfair treatment of Damian. That shit wasn’t going to happen again on his watch.
Whatever thought he had about that man vanished as Damian gave a tug and pushed Tim back first against the wall to kiss him fervently. The latter wasted no time in switching their position and picking Damian up by his slender waist, arousal stirring at the feeling of thighs wrapping around his own hips. Tim deepened the kiss until they were breathless and soon enough, the only sounds that echoed within the room were the debauchery of their passion and Damian’s sweet, sweet voice.
“You’re being completely irrational, Damian.”
“I am irrational for rightfully accusing you of dividing our time together with that pathetic clone you call a friend?”
The boys were standing face to face in the manor’s kitchen during the family holidays, Tim with his arms crossed and an icy expression as Damian scowled and pointed a knife at his face. It infuriated the latter that Tim was so nonchalant and unfazed. He was Damian’s Beloved, nobody else should be worthy of attention except him and him alone. It was unacceptable otherwise.
“It was just one favor from my best friend. It wasn’t like I canceled any of our plans or ignored you. I still tried to make it in time for our date, didn’t I?” Tim glare intensified as he leaned closer, uncaring of the cutlery almost digging into his forehead. “You don’t see me complaining when you get all cozy and touchy-feely with your farmboy, do you?”
Damian bristled at the threatening tone, though his expression betrayed nothing. He would admit he’d been seeing Jon a lot more often than he’d used to, but that was only because he was petty and jealous when he spotted how Tim was always so carefree and at ease when he was with his own Superboy. Not that he doubted Tim would ever ruin what they had for anybody else—Damian himself knew the extent of his obsession. The older vigilante could not stand being away from him for anything longer than a few hours. Damian was well aware of the countless listening devices and trackers planted on his belongings and his clothes. He knew that no matter how much time Tim spent with other people, he would never be able to mentally tear himself away from the thought of his boyfriend.
Damian reveled in it. He didn’t care when Maya and Colin told him how unhealthy Tim’s behavior was. There was a reason they were always at each other’s throats, and it wasn’t simply because of their love being tainted with underlying hatred. After all, how else was Damian supposed to keep Tim’s attention on him if he wasn’t constantly riling him up? While Gotham elite vultures stomp over one another to have just one glance from Tim Drake, Damian didn’t even have to try. He was a Prince, therefore it should be obvious those sapphire blue eyes should always be on him, the intensity of Tim’s glare burning his skin and making his breath hitch with excitement. He needed it. He wanted it selfishly.
So it was only reasonable (in Damian’s mind) that he was jealous of Tim sharing what was his to someone else. Damian felt threatened, and he chose the simple solution that would make his Beloved just as envious. Tim hated when he was physically affectionate with Jon, and it didn’t help that the youngest Kent himself had no qualms pulling Damian into spontaneous hugs or clinging to his best friend like a puppy. As revenge for dividing his time with Kon, Damian made sure Tim watched and listened in his bonding with his own best friend.
And if he was a little more ‘touchy-feely’ than usual, well…Jon and Damian had grown up together and they were incredibly close. It was the perfect excuse.
“You cannot fool me, Beloved,” Damian spat the endearment out like it was venom. “When you are displeased, you do not show it verbally. Clearly the microscopic Kryptonite capsule I found infused inside Jon’s drink which is lethal poison to Kryptonians was your doing that time he came over for a movie night!”
Fortunately, had Damian not noticed right away something had been off about Tim offering them some drinks, he would’ve had to answer Superman about his son being poisoned with synthetic Kryptonite at the Wayne Manor. It would've caused conflict his father couldn’t have handled.
“Maybe he should learn to keep his fucking hands to himself!” The older Bat glowered. “Or maybe you need a reminder of what happens when you deliberately let other people touch what’s mine.”
“Then perhaps you should do something about it, Drake.”
The growl of Tim’s last name snapped the tension and Damian found his air abruptly cut off when a hand grabbed at his throat. However, he wasn’t scared—on the contrary, it was a familiar feeling because of how often their arguments would escalate. Tim’s grip on Damian’s neck actually made his stomach spike with arousal and triumph as he dug the tip of the knife into the other boy’s forehead and broke the skin. He could feel Tim starting to push him backwards, no doubt about to slam him down somewhere and kiss the smirk off of him when suddenly another presence made themself known at the wrong time.
“Hey guys, what’s with all the—holy shit!”
It was their oldest brother Dick, who wasted no time in pulling Tim away and snatched the weapon out of Damian’s hand before he could throw it at the man. The youngest Wayne’s mood soured immensely at the interruption and the incoming disapproving lecture. One glance at the way his lover’s face had darkened was enough indication he was just as upset at Dick’s appearance as Damian was.
“What are you doing?!” Dick scolded as he stared at the single drop of blood running slowly down the bridge of Tim’s nose, horrified. “I thought you two were over this whole killing each other in a fight! Can you not have a bit of decency, it’s the family holidays for God’s sake!”
“You stay out of this, Grayson,” Damian retorted. He took one step forward and glared defiantly up at his former mentor. “You do not know anything.”
“I know enough to keep you from doing something you both would have regretted,” Dick’s brows furrowed in anger. “Arguing is one thing, but getting violent and hurting each other? That’s not a healthy relationship and you know it!”
“Don’t poke your nose into our business, Dick!” Tim started to shout, but Damian’s hand on his chest and a glance sent his way stopped him from doing anything else.
The temperature seemed to drop as the boy turned his head back toward Dick with the most dangerous expression he could muster. It was the first time he’d ever looked at his brother that way, because Dick was someone he greatly admired. But no one was allowed to besmirch what he had with his Beloved.
Not even the man he’d secretly adored as a child.
“What would you know about relationships, Grayson?”
“Excuse me?” Dick blinked incredulously.
“You are not excused,” Damian snorted, lips curling into a mean smirk. “It’s not quite your place to be lecturing us, is it? We may not be ‘healthy’ in your eyes, but your record is not even clean. You’ve had countless lovers, but they never quite worked out, did they?”
“Damian,” The acrobat warned.
“Am I wrong? Shall we inquire Gordon, your youthful conquest? Or that warrior Princess from Tamaran, the one you were supposed to wed. Maybe even Shawn Tsang, your failed reform. The list continues.”
Green eyes watched with vicious glee as the color drained from Dick’s face, the older man’s lips pursed into a thin line and his shoulders tensed. Damian stepped forward again, coming chest to chest with Dick in a challenging stance. He tilted his head slightly as the smirk was replaced by a sneer.
“So I do not believe you are in any position to say anything about our relationship. Timothy and I may have our differences, but what we have is very different from what you perceive. Something your simple mind cannot comprehend. Never patronize us again, Grayson.”
Damian didn’t need his swords to hurt. He had knowledge of where exactly to attack when it came to members of his family. Enough to shut them up and remind them that they can tame him, but they cannot take away the darkness inside of him.
Dick didn’t speak another word nor did he make any movement when Tim and Damian pushed past him to leave the kitchen. Cass and Steph had apparently been lingering in the hall right outside for who knew how long, but the boys didn’t care. They simply went upstairs where Damian dragged Tim into his room so he could actually take a look at the cut on his boyfriend’s forehead. But as soon as the door closed behind them, it was like the earlier spark returned in full force as Tim grabbed the back of Damian’s neck and roughly pulled him into a searing kiss. The boy could feel the ache underneath his skin where bruises would form as Tim shoved him onto the bed with their lips still attached and tongues intertwined. Damian didn’t need his vision to reach underneath his pillow to brandish a dagger at the young man’s throat when he surged up and flipped them over, straddling him with a heated glare despite the flush on his cheeks.
Tim did not even flinch when the blade, much sharper and more deadly than the kitchen knife, bit into his flesh and drew a small red line. No, Beloved was smiling, the blood on his nose smeared across his face during their make-out almost making him look insane. Insane with love, judging by the besotted look he was giving Damian.
His traitorous heart skipped.
“I love you, Damian,” Tim chuckled, something fond and dark and certainly not normal. Not in this situation, not with him.
But he reveled in it anyway. Reveled in the way his lover’s hand caressed his cheek so tenderly, the same hand that had suffocated him just minutes earlier. Reveled in the way he wasn’t afraid of Damian’s ferocity.
Tim was his, and he was Tim’s. They belonged to each other. No one else was worthy.
It was a bad night. Scarecrow had his fear gas infiltrated every single ventilator in uptown Gotham, sending the Bats on a wild chase to apprehend his gang, help the GCPD filter out the entire system and clear away the gas on the streets. Jason took care of the Bowery with the help of Cass in Crime Alley, while Steph and Duke handled East End. Bruce himself was in Burnley with Tim and Damian at his flank, but Robin was quick to rush to Otisburg immediately despite Batman’s calls of protest. Naturally, wherever Damian went, Tim followed. There was no way he was letting the boy get hurt on his watch.
“I’m going after him!” He shouted to Bruce and grappled away before there was an answer. If Damian had already gotten himself into trouble with Scarecrow on his own, Tim was going to make him regret it so bad.
Unsurprisingly, the air in the district where Gotham’s Boogeyman reigned supreme was thick with Fear Toxin. If it wasn’t for the mask specifically designed by Batman to protect them all from things like this, he would’ve been on his knees having a full blown panic attack right now. Tim knew exactly what he would see if he inhaled the pale green toxic fumes, and he was determined not to fall into a dangerous spiral until he saw with his own eyes that Damian was unharmed and safe.
As it was, his little boyfriend was not known for being incredibly rational at times like this. Already he could see the flash of yellow of Damian’s cape standing out against the gloom, narrowly dodging a large swipe of Scarecrow’s scythe that could have cleaved him in half. With his heart in his throat, Tim swooped down and delivered a kick to the back of the villain’s head and landed in front of Damian with his back to the younger vigilante. His staff collided with the blade mere seconds after as he parried a direct strike.
“Ah, and here is the Red Robin,” Jonathan Crane hissed. “I was hoping to test my newest, more developed toxin on Batman tonight, but you little birds would do just fine.”
“Eat shit, Straw Head,” Tim snarled.
“How crude. It looks like I’ll have to teach you some manners in Batman’s place.”
“There was no need for your intervention,” Damian grumbled, clearly displeased as he hurled a few batarangs. “I had everything under control.”
“Shut the fuck up,” A heated glare from Tim underneath the white lenses was enough to make him tense. “I am so gonna wring your neck for running off alone into danger when this is all over.”
The two vigilantes fought restlessly, their perfect coordination creating a flawless combat against Scarecrow. The villain had evidently underestimated how in sync Robin and RR could be, so he decided to switch tactics to gain the upperhand. Tim saw too late the moment that scythe caught Damian’s mask, cutting it off with a painful knick across his face where blood started to ooze immediately. Damian—taken by surprise—forgot to hold his breath, accidentally inhaled a bit of the fear gas and stumbled backwards as he tried to cough out the toxin.
It was by far not the first time he had experienced the true terrifying effect of Scarecrow’s ultimate weapon, but flashing memories of him screaming about shadows and begging Ra’s al Ghul to spare him and sobbing about not wanting to be taken back to the League had Tim acting on his instincts without a second thought. He rushed forward and barreled into Damian as he took off his own mask and pulled it over the youngest Bat’s head, activating the filter in one quick motion. Instead of acknowledging Damian’s shocked cry at his action, Tim turned around to lunge at Scarecrow with fierce protectiveness and rage. This bastard drew blood. He drew Damian’s blood. Nobody was allowed to do it but Tim.
Although the Fear Toxin started entering his lungs, he didn’t stop vigorously beating the shit out of Crane with his staff after kicking the scythe away from the man’s grasp. He didn’t stop even when his vision grew blurry and it was no longer Scarecrow, but the Heretic lying at his feet. Tim’s breathing turned quick and heavy as hands grabbed at his arms and shoulders, pulling him away from the unconscious body. His head was spinning as he was suddenly faced with a bloody and decomposing Damian, a large sword protruding from his chest. But instead of the small ten-year-old he had been when he’d died, all Tim could see was the teen he’d fallen in love with irrevocably, obsessively, hatefully. He could see his worst fear coming to life in front of his eyes—that Damian was dying again and leaving him behind. Leaving him alone, broken, inconsolable. The last time he lost him was because Tim hadn’t paid attention, hadn’t kept the boy in his sight. He’d sworn he’d never let it happen a second time. That if Tim could get his attention to revolve around him, if he was kept possessively by his side always, then he’d never lose Damian again.
There was an incessant ringing in his ears as he clung to his lover’s (moving) corpse, his throat burning with the need to scream himself hoarse. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. He wasn’t strong enough to protect Dami—he failed to save him—he’d repeated his mistake and now Damian was gonegonegone—
“If you leave me, I’ll kill myself!” Tim screeched, tears flowing freely from under his domino as he continued to hyperventilate. “I won’t think twice!”
His chest hurt. His grip on Damian’s body never once loosened even as he felt somebody trying to pull him away. Maybe it was many people. He didn’t care. Tim couldn’t decipher friend from foe as the chemicals in the toxin completely altered his perception of reality. Scarecrow definitely wasn’t joking when he said it was nothing like his old, usual fear gas. Tim was emotionally unresponsive without any acknowledgement of his surroundings until a needle was finally stabbed into his neck, eliciting a shout of pain from his lips. In the back of his mind—the logical part that was unaffected by the gas—reasoned that the antidote had been injected into his system and soon everything would be alright. He just had to wait.
But even though his consciousness was slipping, Tim didn’t let go of Damian. When he woke up hours later, it was with Damian pressed into his side.
“Oh my God, I think he’s awake,” A familiar voice sounding like Steph echoed from just outside the medbay. “Cass, go get Alfred! I’ll get Bruce.”
“Wha…” Tim slurred, blinking several times to chase the exhaustion away as he turned his head around.
“Thank the heavens your mind is still intact. I was beginning to think you have gone mad and we would have to use a stronger dose.”
Sapphire blue eyes met emerald green as the older Bat leaned down to the second occupant on his cot. Damian was there, in all of his bratty demon spawn glory, scowling up at Tim as if he’d personally offended him. Then he noticed how both of Damian’s arms were bruised purple and he absent-mindedly trailed his hand over the marks.
“Give me a recap,” He whispered.
“After giving me your only protection from the Fear Toxin, you eventually inhaled too much while raining violence upon Scarecrow and lost your mind,” The boy reported, then his voice grew smaller. “You were physically and emotionally compromised. You did not recognize anything but my presence. You clung to me with a constricting grip as if I was dead the whole time we tried to bring you back here for the antidote, and you remained unconscious for exactly 12 hours.”
So that explained where the bruises came from. At the face of his greatest fear, Tim had been too desperate to hold on to the only person that always drove him crazy yet kept him sane at the same time. It also explained why Damian stayed next to him the whole time he was out. Tim was about to ask if he’d said or done anything strange, but his boyfriend was already surging up and straddling him with a threatening glare mixed with the slightest hint of desperation.
“You are a fool to think I would ever leave you. You are bound to me forever. If anything, you are the one who is not allowed to leave. If you do, I will kill you first and I will ensure it works this time.”
Ah, so he did say some stuff out loud.
Tim’s lips curled into a loop-sided smile as he gently stroked Damian’s wrist, whose hand was pressing down intimidatingly on his chest. It was funny how Baby Bat thought he would ever let him go, but nonetheless. The threat only solidified their twisted love. Damian didn’t have to know that it was only half the truth—that if he ever walked away, Tim would kill them both in a place where nobody would ever find their bodies so they could be together even in death. Some things were better left unsaid, after all.
Oh, the things they did for love.
They were insane, but what they had was different and they wouldn’t trade it for anything else.