All the dabbles I have posted on my DC x DP account. Under a read more due to how long it is. Broken into three categories:
Multi-parts - Dabbles that have more than one part written.
One-shots- Dabbles with only one part written.
Requests- Dabbles written for the requests of readers. (Note: If a request is for a continuation of the other two categories, they will be filed in Milti-parts)
Master Post 1 Link
Master Post 2 Link
Master Post 3 Link
Master Post 4 Link
Completed AUs Master Post Link
NSFW (+18 ) Link
Fanart for my Fanfic Master Post Link
Shards Aus
Please read the indexes to determine which master post each au is filed in.
As of 5/10/2026: The newest stuff is inside of Master Post 4
(Updated as of 5/10/2026 Stop on One-Shot: The Forgotten Part 1)
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Pa Kent: Good morning Alfred. Are you busy today? Ma and I are in Gotham for that fancy art gallery Clark is writing about. Did you have some time to meet us for lunch before the event?
Alfred: Oh, sorry, Pa, unfortunately, I have my hands full with the latest shenanigans of the children.
Pa: Oh? What happened?
Alfred: Master Dick, has discovered he is a father.
Pa shocked: Dick has kids?
Alfred: Yes, we believe they're from the same place as Mister Bart Allen.
Pa: Oh. That makes sense. How is Dick handling everything?
Alfred: Very well. He's ecstatic to be a father. It's his children who are....reluctant.
Pa: What do you mean?
Alfred: Hold on. Let me send you a picture of the children when Master Dick told them he was thier father.
Danny/Dan/Dani:
Pa: Well....they certainly resemble Dick. He looked the same when I asked him to help me birth a calf. How old are they?
Alfred: Master Dan is the oldest; he's twelve. Master Daniel is the middle one at ten, and Miss Danielle is the youngest at eight. They're sweet children, but they do not seem interested in being brought into the Waynes' home. They've negotiated with Master Bruce to get them rooms at the most expensive hotel in Gotham, in exchange for not running away. It took us months to even corner them.
Pa: Wow that sounds so stressful. I understand that your busy we could reschedule-
Ma taking the phone: Alfred, let Dick handle his kids. You deserve a day off. Join us for lunch, wine and dine at the art gallery with us and if the night goes well, let us get you naked between us.
Pa scandalized in the background: That's too forward!
Alfred: What time and where are we doing lunch?
Bruce sitting across from Alfred and overheard everything: Now Clark will know the pain of the butler dating one's parents. Let's see him laugh now. I hope he suffers.
Dick lying face down on the floor: My kids called me unnatural for being in shape, and now my grandpa is getting more action in one night than I've had in the past six months. This is it. My life has no more meaning.
Maddie: Your father and I knew that you were disappointed to miss out on the family reunion because of your husband's surgery, so we decided to skip it this year and come give you some support in caring for him!
Jack: As well as giving you a break. You must be under so much stress taking care of him and the kids!
Danny, having been lying about his marriage for the past two years to get out of family obligations: Wow... that's so sweet of you.
Maddie: I'm so excited to meet everyone! When you said you were moving to a new Earth, I knew communication through the Ghost Zone was going to be rough, but only being able to connect audio calls once every four months was much harder to endure than I thought it would be.
Jack: Not to mention traveling here. We had to do so many pit stops to fix up the Spectator Speeder and let me tell you, some of those floating rocks were hard to land on. Sometimes makes me wish we had your ghosts powers.
Danny: Yeah....you both went through so much effort. To vist me. In a different dimension.
Maddie: We three! Jazz is here too.
Danny: *gulps* The whole family is here.
Jack: Oh, don't make that face. The Fenton Reunion happens every four years. We'll see your aunts, uncles, and cousins next time. You're much more important to us, so no need for guilt.
Danny: I- right. Of course. Um, have you guys eaten? I can treat us to some dinner before we go back to my place. My, um, husband is at a doctor's appointment with my eldest while I did some work. I'm going on emergency family leave but I had to fill out the paperwork at the office today. Yup yup, thats why I'm here. At my workplace.
Maddie: You alright sweetie? You're sweating a lot.
Danny: I'm fine!
Jack: You work here? This office building is so nice. What does Wayne Enterprise do? I know you have a management position but I never really understood what department exactly.
Danny, who works in the mail room: Um, Wayne Enterprise does a little of everything. I'm in... communications.
Jack: But what exactly does communications do-
Danny: Excuse me for a bit. I have to let my husband know I'm going to be a little late.
Maddie: Oh! Don't tell the kids we're here. We want it to be a suprise. We brought gifts for all of them! Jazz is actually wrapping them up in the Speeder now!
Danny: Ha ha ha ha of course! Excuse me! *walking away pretending to be tapping a contact on his phone* shit shit shit. What do I do???
Damian appearing from the shadows: You told falsehoods.
Danny: Agh!
Damian: ....
Danny: Mr. Wayne Al Ghul! I-ugh- hello! I mean, good afternoon, sir. I ugh-
Damian: Silence
Danny: Yes sir.
Damian: I heard everything, and while I normally find lies distasteful, I find your parents endearing. It could benefit my family. I shall give you aid in your facade.
Danny: What?
Damain: My father recently had surgery on his right hip- a accident on our extreme skiing trip- and refuses to listen to our family doctor. He will not get the proper bed rest he's been ordered, but he would if you acted like his very upset husband with visting in-laws.
Danny: I- Mr. Wayne would never agree to that.
Damian: You seem to believe Father has a choice.
Danny: I-
Damian: I messaged Richard about the plan. He's gathering my siblings' support as we speak. When you arrive after dinner with your family, Father will have no time to deny anything. We shall trap him in social expectations. By the way, you are Timothy's safe queer adult who was there for him in the early years of his self-discovery journey and now he wants to help you. Its how we guilt trip father.
Danny: I can't lie to Bruce Wayne like that!
Damian: It's too late. Timothy already made a shirt of your face with the words "My Gay Yoda" on it. Your path has been chosen.
Danny: What-
Jack: Danny? Who's this?
Damian holding out his arms for a hug: Grandfather, I am Damian, Father's and Dad's youngest.
Jack: Damian! Its so nice to met you. Call me Gran-papa! *crushes him in a bear hug*
Damian in the most monotone voice ever: Gran-papa, I can not feel my arms.
Maddie: Aren't you just the cutest! Danny used to say the same thing at your age whenever his dad hugged him. I'm your Gran-mama, by the way! JAZZ COME MEET THE BABY!
Danny in a horrified whisper: Did my boss trap me in my own web of lies?
Whats a funny meme you use for Danny in Gotham fics?
Danny would have a burn book about the Waynes- both in and out of costume. Instead of one page per person, they would be a page per everything he disliked about them and/or rumors about them.
If he got adopted he would add pages about himself as Fenton and Phantom just to throw off thier scent if they every found it.
Jason: I allowed you to come with me under one condition. Don't forget that condition.
Dick: I know, I know. I'm not allowed to date your friend.
Jason: I mean it, Dick. You have a weakness for red heads and Jazz-
Dick: -Is not looking for a relationship or situationship. I know. You said so at least ten times on the way over here. Come on Jay, have a little faith.
Jason: Alright. Just be cool. *opens door* and welcome to Jazz's Bookshelve. The best place to read and listen to slow jazz.
Dick: *whistles* You weren't kidding when you said this place had a cool theme. But is that shelve all the books they have?
Jason: Nope. I told you the front part was a Coffee shop styled like a bar for a reason. This was a speakeasy back in the 1920s, and behind that bookshelf is the entrance, which leads down into the speakeasy, which is what they turned into the bookshop. The live jazz band plays down there too.
Dick: Very nice. Whoever thought about the idea was a genius
Danny behind the bar: Thank you for the compliment. I'll let Jazz know someone loved her idea today.
Dick: ....
Jason: Hey Danny!
Danny: Hey Jay, back again for another drink and a speakeasy read?
Jason: You know it. By the way, the man frozen in place like a idiot is my older brother. Dick this is Danny Fenton, the owner's brother and my friend.
Danny: Nice to meet you.
Dick:.....
Danny: He doesn't talk much, does he?
Jason: No, he does. A lot Normally he be a chatter box. The only time he freezes is when- Oh come on! I told you the condition!
Dick: He doesn't count! You said the redhead! Not the cute barista!
Danny: Cute barista? Thank you. I try.
Jason: I can't believe you. This is junior high all over again! Stop flirting with my friends!
Dick: *gasp* I don't flirt with your friends! They flirt with me!
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Bruce: Yes. His name is Clark Kent. He can be trusted.
Danny: Okay. *Writes note down* What about the woman next to him?
Bruce: That's Cat Grant, and no, she can't be trusted. Everything you say to her will turn into a gossip-lifting, life-ruining article.
Danny: Got it. *writes more notes*
Jason, watching the two from a few feet away: Say, who's that kid Bruce is media training? Is he a new ward he took in?
Tim: No, that's Danny Fenton, the face of Fenton Works. They signed up as a sub-company of Wayne Enterprise. Originally, they were a paranormal investigation and capture company- yes, I mean ghost hunters- but it was discovered that almost all thier tech can be used on metas. Bruce wants to make medical equipment that can be used by our enhanced citizens.
Jason: I see. But why a kid so young? He's your age, right?
Tim: Hmm, apparently his parents, the owners of Fenton Works, made him CEO so they could focus on ghost hunting and the occasional meta medical machines for Bruce. He got here a week ago to shadow me for CEO training, and Bruce stole him after they met outside my office. Danny hangs onto his every word, and I think Bruce forgot what it was like to have a kid actually listen to him.
Jason: Ah thats makes sense. What do you think of him?
Tim: Well, he's a little naive, easy to trick, and has way too much empathy for the cold world of business. I'm gonna have him in my bed.
Jason: Ah....well that took a turn. One I do not like so I'm gonna....*walks away*
Tim: He will be ✨️mine✨️
Bruce overhears everything from the bugs he planted on his kids: Danny, go ahead and change Tim's status. He can not be trusted.
You think Nanny Herding Geniuses Danny would someday wind up as the Drake butler like how Alfred is for Bruce? Or if they'd someday get assimilated into the BatFam?
Danny wants to be a Nanny above all. I think if Tim gets old enough and he be offered a butler position he would leave. Remember he's skilled enough to be considered highly overqualified for his position.
He's on Bruce's level of training in hand-to-hand combat and was an active bodyguard before the Drakes hired him. He worked under the name Phantom, a legend in the Ghost Zone but not in the living world. The Drakes knew he was important, just not how important. (They also have a crush on him which helped)
He doesn't want to serve; he wants to work with children. He wants to protect. It's his core instincts, as well as his itch to be fighting (or in Tim's case running around after an impossibly clever kid that sees trouble and grins before running headfirst into it)
Now, if he got assimilated into the Batfam, that would make him stay, cause he'd have more kids to take care of. He doesn't want to fight for "good", he wants to fight in response to something threatening him or his loved ones.
He would be very stressed and snappy if he were to be watching the kids on the field. He hates knowing thier out there without him to watch thier backs. He doesn't want to be a hero or a vigilante, so he winds up hate-watching the monitors most of the time. He's not a Guy in the Chair. He's the angry parent on the side of a sports field growling whenever his kid accidentally gets bumped or even brushed up against.
His displeased words would be scorching, not just to Bruce but to Alfred, Dick, Jason, Barbara, and Cass (they are all adults and should have known better). They have the unfortunate role of serving as the Referee for Angry Parent Danny in this scenario. Like why are they letting underage kids on the feild??? What do you mean "you can't stop them?"
The only way to calm him down would be Bruce puting his focus on something else.
A.K.A the start of the Wayne Meta Daycare/Boardinghouse. It would be such a 180 to Batman's no Meta rule that everyone would be sure Bruce is not Batman. How could he if the man's partner decided to be a Father to every Meta child in gotham.
Edit: Bruce and Danny are not romantically involved. Gotham thinks so, and rumors about them spread like wildfire; they can't get people to believe otherwise.
Dick: We need to find a way to establish communication with the ghost or we're in for a fight I doubt we can win. Any ideas?
Garth: We already ruled out most of land languages. I could try Atlantean? Or four of the Seven Sea Comman?
Dick: Go for it it.
Garth: *Turns to flouting figure and speaking in clacking tounge sounds*
Dick: Well?
Garth: No reaction. I don't think he understands.
Dick: Drat. Anyone else?
Kori: I have tried using the few languages I know, and I also failed. However, if I can get close enough I could use my people's lip to lip contact to learn his language instantly.
Dick: I doubt that he will let you get that close but we can try- what are you two doing?
Roy: Setting up the ultimate form of communication
Wally: Interpretive dance! Hit it!
Dick: No-
Wally/Roy:
Danny floating down, teary eye: No one has ever said such poetry about my mother.
Dick: you spoke English this whole time!?
Danny: No, I learned it just so I could thank these two for the touching way they spoke of my mother.
Dick in tears: About two days. We were so worried-
Bruce: Where's Tim?
Jason: It's alright Bruce. You both made it out fine. He wasn't hurt at all.
Bruce: No. Where is Tim!? Where is he?!
Damian: Father calm down. Drake is-
Bruce: You don't understand! You all let Tim out of your sight! On the most dangerous night of the year!
Dick: What?
Bruce: If I was out for two days then tonight the stars align. Tim is going to summon the Ghost King!
Jason: Why would he summon one of the most dangerous and evil being in the multiverse B?
Bruce: Because he's crazy! The only thing keeping Tim's mental state together was his obsession with Batman! But his obsession with the Ghost King is much greater! We have to find him!
Dick: B, please calm down. You were out for two days. Let us worry about Tim.
Damian: I found Drake. He's in the backyard.
Dick: See? Everything is fine. Tim isnt summoning anything.
Damian: Richard, stop spreading falsehoods. Look at the surveillance.
Tim in the backyard:
Bruce leaping out bed: We have to stop him! I can not have the Ghost king as a son in law!
Jason: Wait, he's trying to summon the King to date him!?
Tim Drake finds a handheld mirror when he decides to go on a side quest and visit estate sales instead of going to class. Normally, Tim doesn't buy anything other than vintage comic books, but for some reason, the little mirror held together by twisting black metal caught his attention.
It wasn't valuable. He could tell that by a glance, but it had a certain presence that called to him. A charm that was endearing enough, he found himself reaching into his pocket for a crisp ten-dollar bill. With the mirror in his bag and his skateboard under his feet, Tim flew through Gotham, occasionally leaning to avoid obstacles. A stray thought about school entered his mind, but Tim quickly dismissed the idea. He had already missed most of the morning; there would be no point in going for the rest of the day.
Instead, he finds his way to the skate park, pleased to see it empty. For five hours, he boards. Doing flips and tricks that no one but himself could see. It was freeing not to have to put on a show, not to be the little heir his parents wanted, the smartest in the room among his peers, or any other performing or exhausting act.
Here he was just Tim. Another face lost in the sea of people, who always preferred his own company to that of others. It's something his teachers have noticed and brought up to his parents in a "this is an issue that needs to be addressed" sort of tone. His parents nodded and looked appropriately worried, but once they were away from the school, they assured him it was fine.
That Tim didn't have to make friends if he didn't want to. His mom and dad also preferred thier own company as kids, and his grandparents' attempts to force them to do things they didn't like were the reason why his parents refused to speak to them. Both sets of his grandparents had rules for everything. His grandparents had to approve every aspect of their lives, so that eventually their children couldn't even have preferences for favorite drinks or music without asking permission.
Jack and Janet grew up with everything being decided for them by thier parents. Tim, in turn, grew with his parents deciding nothing for him, and letting him have complete freedom. Some say it's because Jack and Janet didn't care, but Tim knew better.
They called every day, smiled when he told his stories, and smothered him in toys and other joys. That was love. They just traveled a lot for work. Plenty of parents did that; heck, three kids in his class had one or more parents in service and were often missing for deployment.
So yes, he did get a little lonely when the three-hour call ended, and maybe he didn't have proper structure, as some adults claimed, but Tim wasn't sad. He lived in a big manor, had plenty of money, warm meals prepared by a cook, a warm bed, and clean clothes provided by a maid service that came every other day. He had everything he needed.
Plus his nighttime hobby. The rush of following Batman and Robin, watching from the scene itself as his heros saved the day and took down evil. There was nothing as addicting as figuring out clues alongside them- even if they never knew that he pieced together the answers- and watching Robin be the light that Gotham desperately needed.
Watching them from behind his camera lends always made Tim feel like he could do anything too. That included ditching a day of class to go do something that actually interested him.
After five hours of skateboarding, Tim was rather hungry and decided to leave the park. He seemed to pick the perfect time because a loud and overly cheerful group of teenagers suddenly burst from the street, each carrying a board or skates. They quickly take over the biggest bowl in the park, standing on the side as each one goes down for a quick routine.
Tim grimaces, only because he knows them. That particular group isn't the friendliest and had practically run him out the last time he was in the bowl. They mostly leave everyone alone, but for some reason, they did not like sharing thier spot, even if it was already in use by someone else.
He's grateful his empty stomach has gotten him out of that particular confrontation as he wanders through the street, board tucked under his arm. He never knows what he's in the mood to eat, until he sees it, which is how he often finds hole-in-the-wall places that taste far better than any chain restaurant can ever hope to come close to. Most of the time, Tim just walks until he finds somewhere new to eat.
He does so now, wandering in a new direction from the park he hasn't taken before.
Tim has to sidestep a lot because most people don't see him (or, if they do, they don't care about bumping into him). His shortness had always belied his age, but Tim knows it's only until he hits puberty.
He'll grow taller then. Bigger. Or at least that's what the books he secertly read in the libary said.
Right now, he has to deal with being nine and small and having people weave out of each other's way except for him. He frowns when one man opens the door to a restaurant, nearly knocking Tim over as he walks outside.
"Whoa! Sorry! Didn't see you there," The man laughs, having twisted on his heel at the last second to avoid Tim.
"It's alright," Tim replies softly, not really forgiving but knowing he should be. It's what is expected of him in situations like these. He's proven right when the man's face relaxes, and he leaves without much fanfare
Tim watches him go before turning his attention to the restaurant. It's a small place, likely owned by the family that works there. The window has some posters of the wares. Tim quickly concludes it's Chinese, likely more home-cooked meals than the regular buffet style he likes to visit. His stomach growls once, and that's enough for him to open the door and go inside. He's greeted by the employees and told to sit wherever he likes.
He picks the far corner, closest to the bathroom, but he hides behind a pillar that practically hides him from the rest. He sits with his back to the wall, facing the entrance, leaning his board against the wall to his right, and setting his bag on the bench to his right. A waitress comes over with a menu and a glass of ice water, smiling at him politely and asking what he would like to drink besides that.
Tim appreciates that she doesn't ask too many questions. Most people look concerned when someone as small as him wanders in, and oftentimes, he has to answer, "Where are your parents?" "Are you lost?" "Do you have money to pay?" before they serve him.
For that alone, he's going to leave her a fifty as a tip.
"An iced tea with raspberry, please," Tim tells her, attempting his most polite voice. She beams, obviously charmed by his efforts, and with a sweet reminder to take his time on the menu, she disappears towards the back. Tim waits until he's sure she won't return, then digs through his bag with the intention of looking over some photos that he had developed (None from his Batman camera of course)
His fingers brush up against metal. Like a jolt of electricity down his spine, Tim has a sudden, inexplicable urge to hold the mirror.
That's not good, he thinks as he tugs it out. It's still the same black metal with green gems- fake ones, he can tell the difference- as it was when he purchased it earlier that day, with a plain reflective surface glass shaped like a heart. The only difference is that, while before it had a presence, now it practically dominated the room. Not good at all.
Tim was no stranger to cursed items. His parents' work meant they often encountered things beyond human comprehension. He could name five times alone when his father called, laughing hysterically, because his mother had set some magical trap in a tome: She really needed to stop touching things that had symbols of birds on them, even if she adored the animal.
His parents also shipped back items that were somehow magical, wanting them on display in the "Magic room". Jack claimed thier family used to have witches and magic sung in the Drake blood before it was smothered out by the new blood introduced in marriages. They weren't about to perform magic, but the Drakes could sense when something was there.
The Magic Room was the place they put all magic, haunted, or otherwise questionable items that could be considered supernatural. Even the family portraits hung there were only of those who had "a closer tie to magic." They only had four hung up.
Tim believed in magic and ghosts and spirits and all that stuff, but he always doubted those in his family could actually do it. He liked to think it was just people who were more intelligent than normal, and that people of the past couldn't understand that without falsely claiming it was due to magic rather than to more advanced individuals. Still, it didn't mean he wasn't aware that he and his father always stiffened up at the same time, always looked in the same direction of empty air when something pings their alertness, and instinctively knew that some items were more than met the eye.
The mirror was one of those things.
It was compelling Tim to look into it, and despite his mind screaming at him to put it down, his body moved on its own. Tim held the mirror up to his face, looking into his own reflection as it cautiously let its eyes roam.
He knows he is looking at himself, but a part of him couldn't help but think it was the other way around. His reflection was the one studying him. He's proven right, for a split second, it smirks at him even though Tim's own lips haven't so much as twitched.
"Are you ready to order?" The waitress returns, breaking the spell. Tim carefully sets the mirror down, making sure it's flipped so the glass faces the tabletop, and smiles at the woman.
He orders something random, letting his finger point to words on the menu. He gets an appetizer, two entrees, and even a dessert for two before he realizes what he's doing. She writes it all down, not questioning the reasoning why someone so small would need that much food, and then she's collecting the menu. He stays silent as she moves, waiting until she once again disappears into the back, before the urge to use the mirror hits like a ton of bricks.
Don't, a voice in his mind hisses Don't do it. Don't let it win.
Tim resists for a solid three minutes before his hand closes around the mirror's handle. He can't remember moving his arm to do so, but it's up and in his face again before he can stop it.
"Crab cakes," He whispers, staring at the glass. Or rather the empty glass. His reflection is gone.
"Is that a swear? You said it like it's a swear, but I'm pretty sure it's food." A voice, an alarmingly familiar voice, asks. It's laced with humor, almost good-natured teasing, but it's coming from across the table from him. The once-empty side of the table. Tim swallows, refusing to look up, even though he can feel someone- or something- sitting there now.
He doesn't lower the mirror, pretending to find it utterly fascinating as his mind whirls. He tried to call upon all the knowledge he knows about magic or paranormal- he thinks this is a ghost thing- that his Dad had tried to stuff into his mind between trips around the world, but he comes up with a blank on what to do about possible mirror-escaping monsters. He just knows he could not acknowledge it under any circumstances.
"Hello," The waitress beams, coming back to the table. Tim jerks about to raise his head and greet, but he's able to force himself still at the last second. He didn't mean to be rude, but he can not- "Your brother didn't order a drink for you. What would you like, dear?"
"A cola, please," The thing sitting across from him answers. Unlike Tim's soft-spoken, well-mannered voice, the thing speaks in a polite, friendly, and open voice, almost jolly
Drat, she acknowledged it.
"Of course. I'll be right back," The waitress replies, equally as charmed by it as she had been by Tim. He can tell by the rise of her voice, the hidden aw in her words.
Tim waits until her footsteps sound far enough away before lifting his head and taking a look at what has managed to escape the mirror. He's not surprised to find himself staring at an exact copy of himself, down to the hidden dimple on his right cheek that only appears when he smirks.
It's dressed the same, with a board and a bag thrown carelessly on the floor. Tim chose the side with the booth because he hates sitting in chairs. They make it impossible to lounge. It's also sitting with perfect posture compared to Tim's slouch, and it's currently trying to brush down the wind-spread hair on its head.
Tim never bothered after riding his board, and always let it fly wherever his hair wanted to, knowing that eventually it would fall back into place. He had extremely straight hair.
Despite the fingers combing through its hair, its blue eyes were on Tim, and its smirk grew wider when it realized it finally had his attention. Counter to the smugness of its expression, its tone was rather friendly as it spoke. "Hello there. I'm Danny."
The thing- Danny- had a name. It had a personality, and, based on the way it was looking at him, it also had a plan.
Likely to replace me, Tim thought wearily, but not allowing that to show on his face. Or trick me into going into the mirror.
There were many ways he could play this, but the best and the most effective way his father ever taught him was the one he chose.
"Hi Danny, I'm Tim. Why do you look like me?" He puts the mirrior down, staring wide eye and captivated at Danny. The being across from him sits up straighter, and despite no change in his expression or body language, Tim can sense that it is satisfied with his response.
You have to trick them into thinking they tricked you. His Dad's voice echoes in his mind. Whenever you encounter something or someone stronger than you, the best thing to do is play along until you can find an opening and break them apart from the inside.
"I look like you because we're twins!" Danny informs Tim as if sharing a great secret. Tim wants to smash the mirror on its head. Does it think he's a stupid kid who would believe such a bad lie?
"Really?" He asks instead, leaning forward as if he had always known his sudden twin brother.
"Really, really," Danny confirms, taking a sip of his water. He beams at the cup, like he's never had something so delicious before. Tim is pretty sure it's just tap water, but he wonders if it's been so long since it was out of the mirror that it's forgotten what water tastes like. "Why don't we eat and then go home. I love to catch up with my baby brother!"
"Okay"
After they have lunch, Tim leads Danny back to the Manor, finding some time to slip away and send his parents a quick email when the mirror creature decides to explore. He makes sure to go into his wooden closet, checking to see if anything reflects before opening his laptop.
It's quick and to the point.
Bad news, picked up a curse mirror, let out a mirror creature that looks like me and is pretending to be my twin. Play along until I banish it.
His father replies within seconds, likely having been glancing at his emails when it happened. Makes sense since he's pretty sure it's in the late evening over there, and that's what Jack does before he goes to sleep.
Alright, pour purified salt in a face mask mix and create a perfect circle on your face to keep it away from harming you without it knowing you know. Keep it out of the magic room. Your mother and I are coming home first plane out. Love you, stay safe.
Tim does as he told, even putting a line of salt in front of the magic room and all the windows, sealing it off. Danny doesn't noticed beacuse it's too busy wandering around the manor, poking at the corners with narrow eyes. The only proper way to banish it, is to find out what it wants. Danny doesn't tell him right away, and after a dinner, a shower, and even giving him a room to sleep in, he doesn't make a move.
Tim still gets his protective face mask on, acting like he was obsessed with beauty trends, even when Danny makes a displeased face at the mixer. He falls asleep much later than usual, but once he confirms that Danny had stayed in his room, he can't find another excuse to stay awake.
The next day, his parents return at midday, acting as if they had always known they had twins, even as Danny seems surprised. No one points out any oddness, no one makes a comment about the strangeness of it all, and over the course of a week, Danny slowly relaxes into his slot in the family.
The Drakes let him- Tim no longer calling him a it after Danny loudly and proudly claimed his pronouns- but all three keep an eye on the situation. They record everything, search for any legend that can tell them about the black mirror, and slowly but surely start to lead the mirror thing into a false sense of security.
It's by the end of that week that they know they will never be able to banish Danny, not without one of them dying in the process, and they decide that the best course of action is to let Danny become attached to them. They treat him as a son and a brother, a valued and important member of the Drake family.
Years go by, and soon everyone forgets that Danny wasn't always there. News report on the twins: Drake employees smile at the boss's kids, equally polite and nervous, and even Batman believes the boy is a real flesh-and-blood little boy.
But the Drakes know better, and they lie in wait to rip the veil off of Danny's facade.
Tim keeps the mirror safely tucked away in a vault in the magic room, smothering its presence with layers of layers of wards placed there by previous Drakes. Danny never asks for it, which leads him to know that it holds the key to sending him back.
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Danny kicks open the door: Bruce! Explain yourself!
Bruce: Hello, Daniel. How are you? How are things in accounting?
Danny: Don't try to use socialized manners to distract me! I want an explanation for these accounts! *slams folders on Bruce's desk*
Bruce: Hmm? These are personal accounts.
Danny: I'm aware! What I want to know is why you have so much money being transferred to "Barry's food budget", "Clark's furniture replacement fund," and "Diana's art purchases grant!"
Bruce: I believe the names of the accounts are self-explanatory.
Danny: Who are these people!? Why are you funding thier lives?! You have four other accounts with similar titles!.... Bruce, do you have a secret family? Illegitimate children?
Bruce: Yes, because I adopted a dozen children as a single father, but refused to actually provide for my own. That makes perfect sense. Wow, you caught me.
Danny: Ugh, I hate when you use sarcasm. The whole world thinks you're an airhead with no thoughts, but I know the truth. You're a sarcastic, emotionally broken mess that somehow is the most clever mastermind alive!
Bruce: Thank you
Danny: Uggghhhhh! If we weren't best friends, I would have quit by now! I made enough money to retire early!
Bruce: But you won't~🎶
Danny: Aghhhhh! I won't! If I do, I know you'll mess up all the financial systems I set up and run this company into the ground!
Bruce: You're the reason we aren't sinking.
Danny: Damn right I am! *Agressively sits down and crosses his arms and ankles* Alright, if they aren't your children, then who are these people?
Bruce with the straightest face ever: They're my sugar babies.
Danny: .....What?
Bruce pulls out pictures of the Justice League's civilian IDs: Look at them.
Danny: Wow
Bruce: Yeah
Danny: Okay, I guess it makes sense why you would want to fund them. But Bruce, you can't just-
Bruce: Do you want to be one of my sugar babies?
Danny: I would rather be ripped monicule by monicule than be your sugar baby.
Bruce: What if I made you my Splenda nephew?
Danny: What does that entail?
Bruce: I give you money, but you don't give me any sugar. You just spend time with me.
Danny: No kissing, no sex, no romance? Just friends spending time together?
Bruce: Exactly.
Danny: *Narrows eyes* Bruce Wayne, are you bribing me to turn a blind eye to you toeing the line of embazelement?
Bruce: Yes
Danny: Great! Cause I am totally willing to turn a blind eye to your sugar babies! How much are you willing to give Uncle Bruce?
Bruce: This is why we're best friends.
Bruce: Ugh, thank you, but please don't compare me to an owl.
Dani: Why?
Bruce: I prefer to be wise like....a fox.
Danny: No matter how much you try to manifest it, you will not grow up to be a silver fox. That's Alfred's title and no one can challenge him for it.
Alfred: Thank you Master Danny.
Bruce: No that's not the reason. I just don't like owls.
Dan: Is this about Owlman?
Bruce nervously: Ha ha who?
Dan whispering to his siblings: In an alternate universe, Bruce goes crazy and dresses up as Owlman.
Danny whispers back: In comparison to the sane decision, of dressing up as Batman?
Dan: Owlman liked to murder people. Batman just likes to hit them
Dani: Who's Batman?
Danny/Dan: What? We've been living with Batman for the past eight months. I mean, he doesn't know that we know, but we know.
Dani: Stop talking at the same time. It's creepy. That's how you wind up at the orphanage. Bruce can barely stand that we're posing as triplets and I dont know about you idiots, but I am not going to be a eight year old orphan in a Gotham Orphanage.
Danny: Oh bo-hoo you got de-aged four years, I lost six! I was two years away from a driving license!
Dan: I was twenty four. And now I'm eight. But honestly, I kinda like it. My back pain is gone.
Bruce: Kids? Why are you whispering under the table like that?
Danny/Dan/Danny: I was just telling them how much the nannies at pick up go wild whenever Alfred walks by.
Bruce: .....
Dani: Why are you silent? Was it the weird three voices speaking at once thing? I told them not to do that anymore. We are open to an exorcism if you think it helps.
Bruce: No. I just had flashbacks to when Alfred would drop me off at shcool. So many nannies that were.....excited and verbal about thier excitement.
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