Thought about a title for this fic, and then discarded it. I feel like I'm at the point where I can right like, a week's worth of fluff and turn this into a 11K story, or I can narrow in on the case and make this like, 8K. It'll probably the be latter. I can only do fluff in small doses, but I can see the outline stretching out before me for a different writer.
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Tim sets Danny up in Crime Alley. Most of his stripped down safehouse are there, they're less conspicuous, and on the off chance they are randomly broken into (higher in Crime Alley than other spots) he wouldn't loose much. He feels bad, leaving Danny in a place with inconsistent heat and a window aircon unit that rattles, where the bed shoved up against a corner near a single floor lamp and the bathroom is better stocked than the kitchen.
Danny doesn't mind, just teases him about the bedsheets matching Red Robin's costume.
"Don't worry about providing creature comforts," Danny says. "I'm not human. I can keep myself cool and don't need food you do. Nor sleep. Fly home, Red."
Typically, Tim would patrol for another hour, it's not that late. But he can still feel the ash from the fire earlier that evening on the edge of his mask, and wants to wash the scent of burning plastic out of his hair.
"I'll swing by about eleven pm. You can leave, but do so-"
"As Danny. Yeah, yeah. I'll lay low."
"Thank you." Tim feels warm at the promise, knowing Danny is listening to him, that he'll stay safe. The sensation follows him to sleep that night, cozier than any blanket.
He's got a secret in Gotham, and he's cute.
