Tim Drake and the look of love. The rush of blood. The number one.. party anthem.
It was just another stupid gala. Stupid and unnecessary but what could you do? Being the child of one of Gotham’s elite, you had to be there… that’s what your parents made clear at least.
Stupid dress.. stupid heels.. stupid crowd of jerks who only cared about status and money and power-
You’re snapped out of your trance when someone steps on the tail of your dress, forcing you back into them, the back of your head hitting their chest.
Tim Drake Wayne. Of course. Because your night couldn’t get any worse (or better).
And of course he caught you before you could entirely lose your balance.
“I’m so sorry- oh my god-“ He starts, his hands still steadying you, lingering for a beat longer than necessary when you turn to face him.
He looks so.. embarrassed, the tips of his ears red, and oh god are his hands trembling? You almost forget you’re mad.
“No.. no.. it’s not that big of a deal. I— are you good, Tim?”
“No! Yes, I mean- Fuuuck. I’m fucked.”
Okay you definitely forget you’re mad.
“I ruined your fancy dress.”
And then you glance back at the tail of said dress, it was a little torn from where his shoe was.
“God you look great and I’m so fucked.”
You blink at him, trying to catch up to all the things that man was saying. The dress. Then complimenting you. And oh his intense gaze, the way his eyes don’t leave yours. His eyes were so unfairly pretty. Bright and electric and refreshing. You always did love his eyes.
Your relationship with Tim was.. complicated. More than friends, less than lovers. You were in the same university. You also, unfortunately (fortunately), both knew each other’s identities. You often patrolled together. There were these moments with him, moments that lingered, moments like now. Moments you wish could last forever.
“Wanna go to a real party?” Just for some actual fun with him, some more time with your.. friend. Or whatever you choose to call him.
He doesn’t know what it’s about, the way you asked or the glimmer in your eyes, but he found himself wordlessly nodding and in a moment of boldness you grab his hand.
“What party?” He whispers as you lead him away from the hall, sneaking out of the gala. It wasn’t your first time doing this with him, sometimes for patrol, sometimes to just get away, but you didn’t really hold hands doing it. Now you are.
“Just some frat party downtown, Cassie will be there, maybe Bart-“ You respond, but oh he laces his fingers with yours, and pulls you into him and into the freaking broom closet. It happened so fast.
“They were gonna see us.” He murmurs, staring down at you, his ears red again, his eyes avoiding yours, adorably staring at the ground for a second before looking back at you, his arms still wrapped around you, hands resting on the small of your back like they belong there.
Instead your arms wrap around his neck, delving into dangerous dangerous territory.
“Why do you always look at me like that?”
He smiles, bashful and devastatingly beautiful. So him.
Tim Drake was the moth and you were the flame. His head tilted, one of his hands trailed up your back to reach your neck, before sliding to cup your cheek.
“Do I have to spell it out?” His thumb traces your lower lip and you could swear your heart rate triplicated.
Stupid phone. Stupid call. Stupid moment breaking, his hands slipping away from you, his head down, clearing his throat as you grabbed your phone to silence it. You sighed and picked up.
“No Cassie, I’m still coming- Just.. got caught up in something.. I’ll be a bit late.” You speak through the phone, your eyes flickering to Tim’s, Tim who was staring at you with impossible affection, with so much want and.. love, the call ended quickly.
The look of love. It was so.. recognizable now that you’ve seen it on him, your blood was rushing to your face, he giggled, cupping both your cheeks this time.
“You’re so lovely.” He murmurs.
Then his lips are on yours and you’re pressed against the wall of the small room you were in. You almost couldn’t believe it. You were kissing Tim. Timothy Jackson Drake. Red Robin. And most likely the love of your life.
The kissing goes on for a good minute, you two only stop when you need air.
“Man you must have a crush on me or something.” You joke, still out of breath, your hands in his hair.
“I love you.” He deadpanned and oh your brain lagged.
You don’t get a chance to process or say it hack as you two hear another noise and therefore have to continue sneaking out instead quietly.
Not long after, you find yourself outside and in his car on the road.
You should say something. Say it back. Kiss him again at a stop light maybe. But you’re just.. frozen, your mind running fast, sitting in his passenger seat, his hand on your thigh while he drives, a subconscious habit you have no idea when he picked up but oh was it making you flustered. He always did this with you and only you.
“Won’t Bruce notice you’re gone?” You break the silence with a slightly off topic question, eyes on his hand on the wheel. Unfair. How could someone’s hand be so attractive..? It’s just. Everything. And the veins. Oh god the veins.
Tim hummed in response, his eyes flickering to yours briefly before focusing back on the parking lot.
“He won’t mind.” He responds, then parking the car with ease, before getting off to unlock your door for you. Tim stop being a natural gentleman. You bite the inside of your cheek. And he drags you off and into the party, it’s loud but it’s your favorite song, also not so crowded to be suffocating, just.. right.
“Gladly.” And he’s already pulling you by your hips, swaying to the beat with you, slowly getting more confident.
“I really love arctic monkeys.” You murmur, your head on his shoulder as you danced to ‘No.1 party anthem’.
“Mm trust me I know.” He responds, his breath tickling you, his eyes locked on yours. Oh that look of love again, but on your face now.
“Wanna know what else I love?”
And you kiss him, this time making the move yourself, kissing at a party you two don’t find stupid, kissing while the song you later declare yours plays. The song you will also play at your wedding. Yes you heard that right. You wouldn’t really let go of that boy for forever. Because you and Tim Drake? You were in love. You were each other’s no.1 party anthem.
You hear a “Finally” from behind you, making you both turn your heads to face a very amused Cassie and Bart. He hands her a 50. You love your friends.
OKAY HI GUYS SECOND FIC POST!! how are we feeling?? any suggestions or requests?
theartofmadeline
dededos
vaporwave
origamiaround
romaincrisis
blakekathryn
izzy806
titsay
prguitarman