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Nine times out of ten, a quiet night in Gotham meant nothing good.
It meant that the big rogues were out of Arkham, that the small fries were in hiding to keep out of their way, that the city itself was holding its breath in anticipation. It meant crowded morgues and late nights.
This was apparently the once.
Or, it seemed to be, anyway.
It was so quiet that half the Bats were chattering on the open comm line, the others waiting around for any sort of action. Quiet enough that Babs had actually taken the opportunity to turn off her systems and do some sort of maintenance on it, using Cass and Steph as guinea pigs to make sure everything worked right.
Last time Tim checked, the girls were sprinting across rooftops in the narrows to check and see if Babs’ radar was rebooting properly.
Tim had never liked quiet nights. They made his skin crawl, like something was about to jump out and grab him. So when Bruce had recommended that a few of the Bats turn in early to catch up on sleep while they could, he’d agreed, grabbing his bike and heading towards the cave.
And when the call came through, his civilian phone rerouting directly to his comms, he didn’t even have to second-guess answering it.
“Getting a call,” he said.
With a grunted acknowledgement from Bruce, Tim flicked off the main channel and hit accept.
“Hey,” Tim said, trying to hold in a grin. “This is a surprise.”
The sound of Bernard’s little, distracted hum made Tim’s chest swell happily. This was the exact sort of distraction he wanted on these rare quiet nights. The kind that chased away any of his paranoia, replacing it with contentment.
Bernard’s voice alone was enough to make his shoulders relax a little.
“You weren’t answering your texts and I needed an opinion,” he said absentmindedly.
Swapping into the right lane so he didn’t have to drive quite as fast, Tim flashed his lights at an asshole who’d tried to cut him off.
“Yeah? Shoot.”
There was a shuffling sound on the other side, like Bernard was moving around, before he asked, “you’re not busy, are you? Cause this is gonna take a minute, and if you’re still at W.E—”
“It’s fine, bear. I’m driving home.”
A snort. “You know how that’s worse, right?”
“You don’t trust me?” Tim asked. “I could drive across Gotham with my eyes closed.”
“Timothy Drake.”
“Kidding.”
Bernard sighed, then there was more shuffling, and Tim turned onto the highway towards the cave. He sped up to keep pace with traffic.
“You had a question,” Tim said after a long minute.
“Mm. Sorry.” More shuffling, this one distinctly like paper. “Yeah, sorry. My head’s all over the place right now. Um…”
“Tired?”
Snorting, Bernard did something that made a thunk sound.
“What tipped you off?”
“It’s been nearly two minutes and you still haven’t told me why you called.”
Tim wove carefully between a few cars. With Bernard in his ear, he had to keep it slower than he normally would, wary of getting too much wind in the mic and making Bernard worry.
Though, as distracted as Bernard seemed, he might not even notice.
“Okay.” Bernard took a deep breath, saying, “basically, I’ve been looking at colleges, and I’ve sort of narrowed it down. I have a handful of options with really good medical programs, but I need to send in applications in the next few weeks and I really don’t know which one to pick. Some are far away but cheaper, others are closer but more expensive, some don’t have dorms, some do, some—”
“Bernard,” Tim said.
“Please don’t tell me I’m overthinking it. I know I am, that’s why I called you. Just tell me a school.”
“What?”
“Pick one for me.”
Tim raised his eyebrows, fully aware Bernard couldn’t see him. His domino mask tugged at his eyelids. “Just…pick one. No pros or cons, no talking, just…decide a significant part of your foreseeable future for you.”
“I’ve had you pick more important things for me.”
“Haircuts don’t count,” Tim said slowly. “Look, why don’t I come over tomorrow? I’ll help you choose, look into the programs and tuition options and everything. Assuming you’re still saying I can’t just pay for it?”
“Assuming correctly, handsome. Just because you’ve got a trust fund doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you pave my way to success.”
“You’d still be doing all the work.”
“On your dime,” Bernard said, and the teasing tone made Tim’s chest squeeze happily. He still sounded a little distracted and plenty tired, but for just a few minutes of talking, getting him to crack a bit of a joke was pretty good. “You’re not even out yet, what would you tell your family? How do you explain taking a full tuition’s worth of money for some random high school friend?”
“Bruce knows. And I have my own money, thanks.”
“Yeah, ‘cause Bruce knowing will save you from your eighty-five siblings if they found out. Save your money and buy me a nice ring, baby.”
Rolling his eyes, Tim slipped in front of a rumbling semi-truck and rejoined the fast lane. “Flirt.”
He heard Bernard’s mouth click open. Heard the beginnings of some token protest.
Instead, he got a giant yawn.
Bernard made an embarrassed little sound, even as Tim smiled at the thought of Bernard's expression, and he asked, “are you almost home?”
“Almost. Why?”
There was a brief pause as Bernard switched to speakerphone. A faucet flicked on.
“Mm. Don’ wanna distract you while you’re driving.”
“A little late for that.”
“Yeah, but now we have a date tomorrow, I don’t wanna spend it in the hospital because you’re being reckless."
Tim snorted, slowing down just a little for Bernard’s sake. “I am the safest driver in Gotham.”
“I’ve seen you drive, Tim.” He could practically see Bernard’s eyeroll. “I’m gonna say goodnight now, and if I wake up to you making headlines for a car accident, I’m not gonna be happy.”
“Ay ay, sir. No headlines for me.”
There was a soft chuckle from the other side of the line, one that Tim was sure was reluctant.
“G’night. I love you, stupid.”
With a smile, Tim reached one hand up to his ear. “Love you.”
He waited for Bernard to end the call, sighed, and tapped his comms.
The main channel was oddly silent when he swapped back over.
For the first thirty seconds, he thought nothing of it. The girls were probably still busy helping Babs, Bruce was quiet at the best of times, Jason was barely active on the Bats’ comms. And then Damian preferred to keep quiet, lest he risk Bruce or Stephanie cornering him for a duo-patrol.
Babs was partly offline. Duke and Dick weren’t on the Gotham comms, Duke asleep at his cousin’s place and Dick in Bludhaven.
But more time passed, and there was a creeping bit of dread at the base of Tim’s spine.
“Hello?” He asked hesitantly. “Babs didn’t break the comms, did she?”
It wouldn’t be the first time.
Even the most skilled tech wizards messed up every now and then, especially when exhausted from running the Birds of Prey’s tech on a spy job for three days straight.
But instead of more silence, an indication that he was right and the comms were down, or Babs defending her honor, someone else spoke up.
“God, kid, how did you say all that without puking?” Jason asked. Tim frowned. “That was the sappiest shit ever.”
“What?” He asked.
How was asking if Babs broke the comms sappy?
It wasn’t even an inside joke: most of the hero community knew about the last time that’d happened. It’d been during a Justice League mission and she’d admitted it was user error the second she got it back up and running—
Tim’s eyes widened.
Instinctively, he slammed on the brakes. His bike squealed in protest, leaving skid marks on the road, and the few cars around him honked so loud it made his ears ring.
Or maybe that was because of the thick lump in his throat, threatening to choke him.
“Tim?” Steph asked hesitantly, and somewhere in the back of Tim’s mind, he wanted to say names just to get rid of the tension on the comms.
It felt like he’d been dunked into the harbor, like his brain was hitting the gas but his tires were off the ground, like being in zero gravity. Like he was just helplessly spinning in circles.
“You heard.” Tim managed.
For a long second, nobody spoke.
The silence stretched on so long Tim wondered dimly if maybe he’d somehow accidentally delayed turning off his comm’s mic when he started talking to Bernard, and it had only just kicked in.
“Yes,” Bruce eventually said stiffly. “Oracle’s systems are still offline, she couldn’t manually turn off your mic for you.”
“I’m sorry, Red,” Babs said.
Tim sucked in a breath.
Then another.
And another, because his lungs were stuttering and it felt like he was being torn apart from the inside, and he really, really needed to be breathing right now.
His fingers clutched uselessly at the handlebars, his chest tightening.
“That wasn’t—” he stared at his bike’s display through fuzzy eyes. “I mean, Bernard’s not my—”
“It’s okay, Tim,” Steph said gently.
The comm felt like a knife in his ear.
“I’m not,” Tim said.
He didn’t know if he was saying I’m not gay or I’m not okay, was pretty sure nobody else did either, and the next thing Tim knew, his comm was a crushed pile of plastic and tech in his clenched fist.
Clunkily turning his hand over, he let it all fall to the pavement. Stared at it as if it was personally responsible for the last several minutes, which in a way, it was.
Then he started up his bike and did a sharp U-turn, heading back towards downtown.
Even trembling so hard he thought he might throw up, Tim knew how to drive, knew the path back to the Nest.
Lights and billboards and skyscrapers passed in a blur. Blue and red lights lit up for a second, but he didn’t stop, and they didn’t pursue. Must’ve figured out he was a Bat.
His bike was rumbling beneath him. The wind was whipping at his face.
Alfred would be fussing about him driving so fast without a helmet, but a sick part of Tim was glad he wasn’t. It meant he could pretend the thrill of fear in his stomach was from the speed and not from how badly he’d just fucked up.
It wasn’t like he thought anyone was upset.
Bruce and Steph had already known and the others would never judge him for liking boys.
Jason might’ve complained about having to listen to Tim be all sappy on the comms, but the way he’d said it wasn’t judgemental or harsh. If anything, it sounded nicer than how he normally talked to Tim. Almost as gentle as when he was dealing with little kids as Hood.
Tim’d never really talked to Cass about LGBT stuff, but she’d always seemed cool with it.
Damian, too. He went to Metropolis pride for his friend Jon, seemed fine talking about Jon’s boyfriend Jay. Babs was the one who’d programmed the bat signal to light up rainbow on the first day of pride a few years ago.
And Dick and Duke hadn't even been listening. They didn't know.
But he hadn’t been ready. Telling Steph and Bruce had taken all of the courage he’d had, leaving him with none left to talk to the others.
Bernard had said he was okay waiting, so Tim had just left it. He kept thinking he’d be ready later, later, later.
And now it’d happened, and he wasn’t ready at all.
One of the Nest’s hidden doors lurched open. He drove in without doing any of his standard tests to make sure nobody was following him, too jittery to even think logically.
Parking sloppily, Tim stumbled off his bike, his hands flitting around the clasp of his cape.
It was too heavy, made him feel like he was choking on his own spit, but he desperately wanted the weight on his shoulders. The thought of changing into civilian clothes was daunting.
Robin was safe.
Robin was his safety net.
No matter how bad Tim Drake’s life got, his problems couldn’t touch Robin.
But that wasn’t true, was it? If it was, he wouldn’t be in this mess.
There was only one thing really separate from Robin in his life, and all at once, Tim felt breathless with the need to hear Bernard’s voice.
If Robin was his safety net, Bernard was his harness. He’d never let Tim fall in the first place.
Tim found his phone on his main workbench and punched in his password with trembling fingers. He set it on speaker, not trusting himself to keep a grip on the phone if he tried to put it against his ear.
As it rung, Tim hugged himself, then shook out his buzzing hands.
The screen flickered as Bernard answered.
“Tim?” Bernard asked, voice cracking into a yawn. “What’s up?”
His words washed over Tim like a blanket, sleepy and warm, and Tim grasped the edge of the table. His knees felt abruptly weak.
“Tim?”
God, he sounded so relaxed. Must’ve finally calmed down a little after their conversation, been on his way to falling asleep. And Tim was gonna ruin that.
“Babe?”
“I fucked up.” Tim croaked.
Immediately, he heard the sound of shifting fabric on the other side of the phone. Bernard sounded much more awake when he asked, “what happened? Where are you?”
There was a tight lump in Tim’s throat.
Bernard couldn’t see him, but Tim shook his head anyway, letting out a choked hiccup.
He felt about five seconds from breaking down completely.
“Are you at your apartment?”
Tim forced himself to hum affirmatively, even though it made his chest ache. He could hear footsteps. Heard a door open and someone say something further away from the phone. Bernard mumbled something back. Tim vaguely recognized ms. Dowd’s voice.
A second later, Bernard said, “I’m on my way over, okay? It’s gonna be okay, Tim.”
It really, really wasn’t.
“Okay.” He choked out anyway.
“Just stay there. I’m fifteen minutes away.”
“Okay.”
“Try to breathe, honey, sit down. Drink some water. We’ll figure this out.”
Tim let out a breathless noise, one that made Bernard’s footsteps speed up through the phone.
“I gotta hang up to drive. You gonna be okay?” Bernard asked.
“Yeah.” Tim squeezed his eyes shut. “M’ fine.”
“Fifteen minutes.”
“M’kay.”
“Promise.”
Tim nodded, head tipping forwards and jerking back. Bernard couldn’t see it, but he must’ve gotten the point, because the call ended with a little beep.
All of the air in Tim’s lungs shriveled.
He fumbled for his cape, tearing it off with a heaving breath, and sent it fluttering to the floor. His gauntlets felt abruptly restricting. His costume, normally so comfortable, was overwhelming.
There was no organization to the desperate way he stripped the rest of the Robin suit off. Just his spinning brain screaming at him, information overload achieved.
By the time he managed to stagger upstairs, dressed in his loosest pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt he was pretty sure belonged to Bernard that’d gotten stuffed in the Nest’s lockers, he was dizzy with how hard he was crying.
Horrible, raw, throat-tearing sobs spilled from his lungs and he couldn’t stop them.
His cheeks were soaked with tears. It was all snot and saliva and a burning feeling, like his face was about to explode.
He collapsed onto the couch and pressed his face into a pillow, muffling it all.
Arms over his head, shaking fingers clutching his hair, he was sure he was shattering into pieces all over the floor.
Nothing had physically happened to him. There was no reason for it to hurt this much. No reason for him to be having such an emotional reaction over something that, in the long term, would be basically inconsequential.
He just—
He hadn’t been ready.
That was what kept playing on a loop in his head.
His biggest secret, something maybe five people in the whole world knew, and he’d just dropped it like a bomb. Caught himself in the blast.
God, he was so lucky, so horribly, sickeningly lucky, but he couldn’t focus on that. His mind refused to let itself be torn away from the fact that the majority of his family now knew he was bisexual. It was a box he could never close again.
Bruce had always taught them that once information is spoken out loud, it can never be taken back. He’d meant in regards to secret identities and being wary with who to trust, but Tim was just thinking about his siblings.
Everyone’s opinion of him would change.
Maybe not negatively, but somehow. It would change their perception of him. He’d never be the same Tim in their eyes as he was less than an hour ago.
When the doorbell finally rang, Tim lurched off the couch so hard he sent one of the cushions skittering.
He barely remembered to check through the peephole before throwing open the door and falling into Bernard’s arms.
“Tim,” Bernard said immediately, pulling him in close. “Oh my God.”
Fingers clutching uselessly at Bernard’s back, Tim choked down a sob. He didn’t protest when Bernard gently pushed him back inside and closed the door, or when he locked it, and especially not when he set a hand on Tim’s hair and smoothed it down.
If he had to feel this awful, there were worse places to be then in Bernard’s arms.
Especially when he splayed his warm hands over Tim’s back and rubbed gently.
After a long moment, Bernard mumbled, “you’re shaking.”
Tim didn’t bother to respond, but staying silent must’ve been answer enough to an unspoken question, because Bernard tapped his arms.
It took all of Tim’s energy to put them around Bernard’s neck like he was prompting.
“Legs too. I’ve got you.” Bernard promised.
Tim moved to lift his legs, wrap them around Bernard’s back, but he couldn’t do it. His muscles felt like the wobbly remains of a tire discarded on the side of the highway. Even just standing was work.
As if on cue, his knees buckled.
He barely had time to brace himself to hit the floor knees-first before Bernard hooked his fingers under each thigh and hefted.
“Got you.”
Legs positioned to criss-cross across Bernard’s back and jean pockets, Tim stifled another sob.
Bernard squeezed his legs and slid his thumbs across Tim’s legs. Tears soaking into Bernard’s hoodie collar, Tim just allowed himself to be carried carefully towards the living room and tried not to start blubbering nonsense.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Bernard said quietly, “I’m here, alright? We’ll figure this out.”
Bernard sat at the end of the couch, back to the corner, tucking Tim in beside him. Having Bernard most of the way between him and the room made Tim’s chest flutter gratefully, even as he buried his face in Bernard’s sleeve and clung to his waist.
Just Bernard being there was enough to convince Tim’s heart to slow a little bit. Not nearly enough to call it calm, but better than when he’d been panicking alone.
He tangled his fingers in Bernard’s shirt with a hoarse breath.
“M’ sorry.” He mumbled eventually, throat thick from crying. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to drag you here when you were already anxious about school.”
“Hey…”
Tim tried to duck his head more, but Bernard caught his chin, nudging it up. When their eyes locked, Tim’s stomach twisted.
Bernard looked so unbearably worried.
Tim could see it in his posture, in the tenseness of his shoulders, in the way his eyebrows were furrowed, making his moles and freckles shift. It was a worry that said he wanted to just start shaking Tim and demanding answers, but he kept his touch gentle as he brushed a bit of Tim’s hair behind his ears.
The spot where their skin touched tingled, warm and tender and a burning reminder of what Tim had done to himself.
He tried to take a deep breath.
It bubbled back up as another sob.
“Oh, Tim.” Bernard breathed softly, cupping Tim’s cheek.
Something in Tim’s chest melted, a dam giving way. He let his face tip into Bernard’s touch.
"It wasn't—" His voice cracked. He wasn’t sure he was being loud enough for Bernard to hear. Couldn’t imagine trying to speak up. “It wasn't supposed to be like this. I wasn't gonna come out, I didn't want anybody to know."
Bernard sucked in a breath.
For a heartbeat, he was just frozen, thumb brushing away a tear and eyes wide, before he abruptly pulled Tim closer. The burn spread, but Tim didn't want him to let go for anything.
"Tim,” was all he said, soft and quiet, and it carried a thousand emotions that felt like a balm on Tim’s scars.
“They all know.”
“M’sorry,” Bernard said, “I’m so sorry, babe.”
Tim closed his eyes, leaned into Bernard’s shoulder, and shuddered.
He really hadn’t been planning on telling anybody.
They all would’ve learned eventually. Tim would never really try to hide Bernard, didn’t want to run the risk of Bernard ever thinking he was ashamed of their relationship, and his family was a bunch of detectives.
Jason might not have guessed thanks to how distant he was, but the rest of them would’ve. Cass would’ve. Dick. Even Damian, who’d rather pretend he didn’t care.
Hell, Alfred and Babs probably had their suspicions already.
But the choice had been taken away from him, stolen by his own stupid mistake.
And now he was dragging Bernard away from precious sleep to deal with him, getting tears all over Bernard’s shirt, probably stretching it with how tight he was clutching it.
It was mistake after mistake.
As if he could hear Tim’s thoughts, Bernard smoothed a hand over his hair.
“It’s gonna be okay." He murmured. "C’mere, babe."
He shifted, dragging Tim into his lap. Tim didn’t bother to fight it, just let himself be manhandled, and Bernard’s nails scratched soothingly at the base of his neck.
Letting his head drop to rest against Bernard's shoulder, Tim took a steadying breath.
It made his lungs ache and his chest feel tight, but at least it wasn't as desperate as it had been earlier.
Then something soft prodded gently at his cheek, and it took him a second to realize it was the corner of Bernard’s shirt, that Bernard was using it to wipe away his still-falling tears.
He let out a little protesting noise, but Bernard stole a kiss, effectively shutting him up and getting salty, gross tears all over his own face.
“Bear—”
Bernard kissed him again, soft, fingers tangling in his hair.
“Stop,” Tim said, even as a smile tugged at his lips for the first time since the comms mess up. “I’m disgusting right now.”
“Never to me.”
Using Tim’s moment of surprise as an opportunity, Bernard grabbed his shirt and wiped the other side of Tim’s face.
“You’re terrible.”
Bernard tucked his nose into Tim’s hair with a soft snort. “I’m a genius. Diabolical. A real enigma, my grasshopper.”
Snorting wetly, Tim rolled his eyes and dropped his head onto Bernard’s chest. His shaky hands dipped behind Bernard’s shoulders to cradle him close.
One of Bernard’s hands began to run up and down Tim’s back, taking on a steady little rhythm, and Tim sighed.
Tension he hadn’t even registered slipped slowly out of his limbs. Every passing moment left him just a little closer to a reasonable person, instead of a giant puddle of regret and panic.
If Bernard had a superpower, it would be this, being able to make Tim melt in a matter of minutes.
And then Tim’s eyes glided sluggishly over the windows, exhaustion beginning to take over.
He caught a glimpse of the shadow in the window, big and dark and a black hole amongst the others, and closed his eyes against the swell of dread. Turned his face away to press it against Bernard’s neck.
He wasn’t ready to see Bruce yet.
Even if he’d already known Tim was bisexual, he would try to help Tim with the fact that he’d outed himself to everyone else. That was the sort of conversation that Bruce was least suited for, difficult emotions and tiny nuances, and it was just going to be painful for the both of them.
And besides that, Tim had Bernard to comfort him. It didn’t fix it, didn’t undo the damage, but his arms around Tim’s waist and his breath ghosting over Tim’s hair were warm, his shoulder was soft, and Tim felt safe.
That was all he needed.