Chapter Text
When Danny arrives home, shoulders a little slumped from how he was essentially booted out by Lucius for clocking in too many hours, his apartment is dark and the only source of light is the lone window in the living room.
It’s an open space plan, the flickering streetlights below provide very little visibility, but Danny ignores it. He doesn’t need more to see, what with his powers and all, and he’s too tired and grumpy to do anything about it anyway.
He really wanted to get this particular part done, for the new wheelchair modifications he’s been working on, but Lucius just couldn’t wait 5 more minutes.
“It’ll be there next week, Nightingale.” Lucius had said to him as he tossed Danny’s bag at his face. “Besides, you’ve been saying five more minutes for an hour. It’s late. Go home.”
Danny huffs, thinking about how he was veritably dragged and pushed out. Lucius had shoved Danny’s jacket into his arms in a way that effectively had him wrapped up, and he was deposited into a company paid taxi with an expertise the older man no doubt got from handling Bats.
Putting aside the humiliation of being treated as one of those nosy vigilantes, Danny’s more miffed at the fact that he’s going to be thinking about that unfinished part all weekend now.
Maybe Tuck will have a new target for him? Or he could visit Sam and Val, go to the shooting range or something. Maybe visit Jazz and Ellie—a smile curves into his cheeks, or maybe he could see a certain pretty birdy…
He thinks about his options for distraction as he puts away his things. Shoes off, bag and jacket on the hook, keys in the tray. Just like Jazz taught him.
He’s about to wander into the kitchen, see if there are any leftovers, when he notices it: an american robin, perched just outside his window on the fire escape rail.
There’s something… Other about it, the plumage of the little bird is more distinct in color: the red of its belly a little more red, brighter, as opposed to the usual orange its kind usually sports. The gray parts of it, around its head and wings, are darker, blacker . Its eyes give it away: they glow a little yellow, almost a trick of the light, like they’re simply reflecting the streetlights.
But Danny knows Other, so he approaches the little bird with a probably ill-advised sort of confidence and curiosity. Can curiosity still kill you if you’re already dead most of the way? But it's a moot point regardless: he’s a Cat, and he has a soft spot for Robins.
He opens the window to step out with a grace he’s still surprised with, even after all these years. Sometimes he still feels like that 14 year old boy, stumbling his way through halfa-dom and vigilantism. Look at him now, a cat through and through. Thank the Gods for Selina Kyle.
He reaches out towards the bird as it tilts its head, but before he can make contact it flutters away towards a rooftop two buildings away, perching itself delicately upon a dainty finger. Following the hand he spots a woman standing there, looking away and smiling as she tucks her hair back against the wind. She’s familiar, but it still takes him a moment before the memory comes back. She looks very different, after all, when she’s not tied up and crying her eyes out.
Anastasia’s eyes glow yellow now, just for a moment, and then a black and white cat steps into existence beside her on the ledge. It rubs up on her as it passes to sit primly next to the hand holding the illusionary Robin, one eye green as emeralds and the other a watery ocean blue.
The Cat and Robin nuzzle, which makes Danny smile. The meta woman vanishes the two, and even from far away Danny can see her smile, the way she mouths thank you as she twirls a finger to subtitle it with glowing white text in the air. A neat little trick that makes Danny chuckle.
She hasn’t looked his way once, no doubt given strict instructions from the mastermind of all this. She points down, once, twice, before turning away with a wave over her shoulder, disappearing into the night just like her lovely illusions.
Danny looks down, his smile growing as he spots a little business card taped to his balcony railing. One side has a time and a place embossed into it, just like the one Stray left.
And just like the one Stray left, when Danny flips it over there’s a bright red kiss mark on it.
He remembers sticking around, intangible and invisible, and feeling butterflies running havoc in his stomach as he watched Red Robin kiss his mark. It made him reach out, caress the vigilante, just a little, before snatching his hand back. Red Robin probably already suspected Danny’s not a normal human, but there was no need to be obvious about it—a true moment of weakness had overcome him.
Danny knows the vigilante is watching him from somewhere, so he presses his barely contained smile against the mark, eyes closed and savoring, hoping Tim feels even a fraction of those butterflies Danny felt all those nights ago.
At least he has a plan for the weekend now, and something new to occupy his mind until then.
===
The Gotham Museum was relatively empty for a sunny Sunday afternoon.
The locals must be taking advantage of the rare nice weather to head to the various parks instead. Not that Danny was complaining in the least. The lack of crowds was nice, and meant that Danny found a free bench to sit and wait at fairly easily.
The Museum has been hosting a special exhibit for the past couple weeks, a Halloween Special for the month of October. A whole slew of historical artifacts that were deeply entrenched in mysteries of the past, remnants of serial killers that never got caught, paintings and art based on spiritualism—on the occult and macabre.
It seems like a bad idea, bringing that kind of juju into Gotham, but so far nothing bad has come of it. The people of Gotham have mostly just enjoyed the novelty of it, especially since it’s in line with the season. Danny himself has lightly scouted it before, to see if anything was worth stealing (there wasn’t). But he didn’t get to truly enjoy it, and hasn’t really had the time to revisit it in the light of day.
There’s something so very sweet of Tim to take Danny here for their first date, and hilarious considering what type things Stray as stolen. A spooky museum date may seem like in bad taste, but Danny lives for it. Tim must have done his research, which Danny appreciates. He’s always enjoyed how intensely curious the other man is, how thorough he is when he dissects his cases as Red Robin, how every corner is inspected in his work as co-CEO of WE.
It makes Danny shiver, thinking about that focus on him . Danny likes being a mystery, and he likes that Tim would like to pick him apart down to his minutiae. It’s thrilling.
A breeze blows by, causing Danny to adjust himself lest he have an incident. He’s opted for a dressy kind of casual today, with a long sleeved button up shirt, midnight blue with gold constellation patterns littered about it. It’s tucked into a high waisted dark brown pleated skirt that goes down to his ankles, with a thick leather belt that has a gold buckle. He’s chosen to wear black tights underneath, in accordance to the weather despite the fact that he doesn’t really feel the cold anymore, with chunky platform boots.
He accessorized the entire outfit with a variety of gold chains, because Danny can’t resist a good theme. He has them around his neck where the ring of rage and crown and fire hang in shrunken form, on his wrist in a delicate bracelet, from the top of his ear to the lobe of it—connecting the cuff and dangly star earrings he’s put in. Even his bag, an over the shoulder number that’s shaped like a midnight blue and gold star, has a thick gold chain strap. He’s even done a little make up: mascara and a light concealer, with of course a bright bright red lip.
He’s unexpectedly nervous, but before he can really truly spiral a shadow dips into his periphery.
Danny has seen Timothy Drake-Wayne at galas before, many times even, whenever he’s dragged to one with Sam. The co-CEO has always looked so sharp, clean cut, like the very tip of a freshly cut diamond gem. It’s always long crisp lines and white picket fence smiles, genial and open, an American Dream.
But here, in the autumn sun and October breeze, it’s just Tim who has come for him.
A sweet boy with a sweet smile, a gleam to his eye that spells trouble—charming in how dorky and boyish he is. He’s wearing an MIT sweater over a forest green button down, the collar of it just as crisp as his gala suits but softened with his slightly messy hair. He’s got on some clearly ironed khaki shorts and tall white socks with a green accent on them, with some white sneakers to go with the whole fit. It’s simple, but clean.
He looks like any other college student, just a little dressed up, if Danny didn’t know his shoes were $600 Alexander McQueen leather sneakers and that the watch he’s wearing cost more than his rent. Not to mention that he knows for a fact that Timothy Drake-Wayne is a high school dropout. It’s a subtle kind of rich, and a funny little joke besides—did the other man buy that sweater because MIT is Tim backwards? Though Danny does appreciate the bright yellow UNIQLO shoulder bag, it’s a bright little spot of color that makes him smile. It’s even nicer that Tim smiles back at him.
“Hello, Pretty Kitty.” Tim’s voice is light, and he has this look about him that reminds Danny of a puppy waiting to be praised. Danny isn’t fooled by the I’m just a Guy demeanor—he can see the way his eyes dart this way and that, surveilling their surroundings. The way he eyes Danny head to toe with an appreciation, a hunger —it makes him shiver, the way Tim’s eyes eventually fixate on his lips. Old money nepo baby or not, there’s no doubt the vigilante is always hidden under the surface—a sleeping bird of prey.
Tim offers him a hand up, which he takes, and is delighted to note that with his boots he’s an inch or two taller. He also notices, with the way other man’s eyes go a little half-lidded, that Tim seems to be equally delighted about it too. Danny flips their clasped hands so that his own is cupping Tim’s, and brings it to his lips to kiss lightly on the back of it, keeping eye contact the entire time just so he can see the other man’s eyes dilate in pleasure.
Danny’s heart flutters. “Hello, Handsome Bird.”
===
The date is good—no, the date is phenomenal.
It’s fun going around the museum with Tim, making fun of the more absurd artifacts, sharing anecdotes of their strange night lives and even more bizarre day lives.
Neither of them are delusional—Danny knows Tim did extensive research on him, on his history and clearly doctored life, just as he knows that Tim knows Danny did the same.
Tim didn’t have to keep making little allusions to Danny’s previous life, but the throwaway comment about it not being the first time Tim has taken down an organization was appreciated. And hot.
He might take him up on that, though with how incompetent the GIW are it’s hardly necessary. Val seems to be having fun running circles around them back home anyway. Though Jazz might like not having that worry on her plate, no matter how small of a worry it was.
Danny gives as good as he gets, taking Tim by the hand to drag him close, whispering in his ear and making little comments referencing Tim’s other life, his siblings, making little jokes about dads and their interesting hobbies. A fursona is mentioned, once or twice, just to make Tim laugh at the little hypocrisy.
Danny is not going to lie, especially not to himself: he was scared when he decided to take the leap. It was a gamble, actually doing something with the tension between Stray and Red Robin. There was no guarantee that Tim would have accepted Danny in all his weird, half ghost bullshit.
But when Red Robin had cornered him that night, about his M.O., about why Stray stole the things he did, well. It led to Tucker doing a deep dive. It led to Sam sharing her suspicions about a certain Crime Fighting Furry from when she was forced to all those galas as a kid. It led to Danny connecting dots about one, if not both, of his indirect bosses. It led to the conclusion that eventually, something was going to give.
Because Red Robin was relentless, and knowing that the vigilante and Timothy Drake Wayne were one and the same? They would be fools not to see that the end was nigh.
So he took the chance, and Gods, is he happy he did.
“There’s a diner just around the corner,” Tim is saying, gesturing with his free hand as he guides Danny outside the Museum with the other hand gently braced against his lower back, “One of the chefs is Indian, so even though most of the menu is American, they’ve got some tasty fusions going on for the more adventurous sort.”
Danny can’t help but smile at Tim’s enthusiasm, a little surprised that he even knows Danny likes Indian food. It’s a little above and beyond, some might even say too far, but considering who they are and what they do? It’s sweet that Tim would look into the littlest things for their date.
The walk to the diner is short and pleasant, if a little cold. It gives Danny the excuse to snuggle up to Tim and watch a little blush light up on ears and neck, which charms Danny to no end.
When they’re seated at a booth, Danny decides to slide in next to Tim, instead of across. That seems to throw Tim off a bit, by the way his face scrunches up cutely. Danny bypasses it by simply lifting the other man’s left arm to fit himself snugly against him, which quickly cuts off anything Tim might have said about it as he pulls Danny just that little bit closer.
Tim orders a chicken fried curry and grits, and Danny orders a burger with an order of garam masala spiced onion rings. Danny takes particular joy in feeding Tim one, as well as insisting on two straws for his Chai Milkshake.
It’s surprisingly good, and exceedingly cute how shy Tim is, considering how touchy they’ve been with each other.
Danny is practically sitting in his lap, and Tim keeps fiddling with Danny’s hair, the nape of his neck, running his fingers down Danny’s side causing little shivers. It's frankly impressive how Tim manages to eat curry with one hand and pet at Danny with his left simultaneously, all while holding a conversation with Danny.
Danny settles back onto Tim’s shoulder when they’re done and waiting for dessert (a slice of mango lassi pie for him, a slice of coconut cream pie for Tim). They’re talking lowly now, making abstract references to their night lives, when Danny notices a fading mark just below Tim’s collar.
He twists slightly, still leaning on Tim, hooking his finger into the vigilante’s collar and tugging a little before gently pressing a finger against this.
“It hasn’t faded yet?” Danny whispers, because it’s his mark, he knows it, recognizes it now.
“Thankfully not,” Tim grasps Danny’s probing hand into his, smiling softly. “Haven’t stopped thinking about you since I got them. I only wish…”
“Wish what?” Danny hums as Tim trails off, transfixed by the way Tim has brought his hand up to nuzzle against it, the corner of Tim’s lips tracing a long line down from the tips of his fingers to the sensitive inside of his wrist.
“Wish I did the same—left you a gift to remember me by, I mean.” Those dark blue eyes, like royal blue sapphire, never stray from Danny’s, almost hypnotizing him.
“That’s an easy fix, isn’t it?” Danny breathes out, zeroing in on how Tim’s lips are pressed against his wrist now, not quite kissing, before they open just slightly. He can feel Tim’s breath, warm and soft, as he smirks and slowly latches on.
It should be awkward, watching a man suck a hickey into your wrist. It isn’t—it’s so hot Danny can barely even stand it, and is about to do something about it.
That is, until the waitress comes by with their dessert. Danny blinks, and suddenly Tim is all charming smiles and hands in laps, thanking the waitress and cheekily smirking at him as he brings up a spoonful of pie to feed Danny.
Danny takes his revenge by eating the pie as sinfully as he can.
If the way Tim keeps eying him like a hawk and insisting to feed Danny himself is anything to go by, he succeeds.
It’s a hollow victory, however, if you consider the way Danny’s face doesn’t seem to cool down the entire rest of the date, especially whenever he catches sight of the hickey on his wrist.
He’ll call it a draw.
===
Danny lifts a hand to cradle Tim’s cheek, gentle as he can manage, keeping his fingertips away in habit despite the lack of gloves and claw. Tim brings his own hand up to cup Danny’s hand as he nuzzles into the palm of it. Danny’s heart is loud enough he’s afraid the whole building will come down, even more so when Tim turns into Danny’s palm, lifting it slightly to kiss the hickey he left there at dinner, lingering and never taking his eyes away from Danny’s.
“Can I kiss you?” Danny’s voice is barely a whisper but it feels like it echoes through the empty hallway. Tim grins at him, a little bashful and cheeky at the same time, no doubt remembering the last time this question came up between them.
“Handsome guy like you? I’d be a fool not to let you.” Danny grins back at Tim’s response, feeling his eyes blink green briefly, flashing a little fang and catching the way Tim’s eyes dilate just that bit more. He slides his other hand up, hooking his arms around Tim’s neck to bring him a little closer.
“You are hardly a fool, Tim Drake-Wayne.” They both lean in, hard to say who does it first, and Danny finally, finally gets to taste that smirk Red Robin loves to flash when he thinks he’s won.
It tastes sweet, the sweetest thing Danny’s ever tasted.
They savor each other, before Danny gets a little impatient, kitten licking at the seam of Tim’s lips. The other man grants him access easily, and that—that tastes even better.
They quickly get lost in each other, in the feel of each other. Danny distantly recognizes that he’s been pushed up against his front door, that Tim’s hand is sliding from his upper back down, slowly, leaving a burning trail of heat behind. He feels that hand push against his lower back, bringing him closer, and Danny’s okay with that, more than okay even—
And then suddenly the pressure of the door behind him is gone, and he’s being walked backwards. Danny blinks out of the haze of wet and heat, tilting his head up and panting as Tim licks at the sweat on his neck, realizing that Tim has lockpicked his way through Danny’s front door. One-handed.
“Why the fuck is that so hot—” Danny groans as Tim bites a a particularly vicious hickey into his shoulder, getting cut off as his lips are once more consumed.
The door is kicked closed, and the next thing he knows Tim has turned them around to slam Danny back against the front door and latch onto his neck again.
“Lockpicking turns on the thief, who would have thought?” Tim laughs, voice raspy and only a little wrecked, which is unfair because that is a lot of coherence going on when Danny’s kind of a mess. “Besides, I didn’t want to give your neighbors a free show—wanna keep you to myself.”
Danny melts a little as Tim, feather light, runs the back of his finger against Danny’s cheek where he knows a blush is fiercely painted on his face from the consideration. Danny doesn’t remember being this flustered or hazy when he was the one giving the hickeys, but then again, Stray has always been more confident than Danny has ever been.
He tries to channel a bit of Stray now, arching up and looking at Tim from under his eyelashes. It’s a feat, considering he still hasn’t taken off his shoes and is still taller than him. He’s delighted to note that Tim has a smear of red lipstick all over his lips and a part of his cheek.
“If you wanted a show, all you had to do was ask, Red.” Danny feels Tim freeze, his other hand gripping at Danny’s waist tightening just a little bit before letting go as if being careful not to leave bruises. Danny feels a little thrill crawl up his spine, because oh does he want bruises.
Danny smoothly slips out of Tim’s arms (without even using his powers!), getting to work. By the time Tim has gotten his wits about him to turn around, Danny already has his shoes off with a hand braced on the corner wall, peeking back out with a little cheeky grin, pointing at the other man’s feet.
“No shoes in bed, darling.” Danny starts shedding his jewelry and belt, heading towards his bedroom with a little skip in his step and a hum in his throat.
He hears Tim scrambling to take his shoes off behind him, and smiles in victory as he unbuttons his shirt. Hands latch onto his waist, causing Danny to gasp as Tim lavishes with more kisses to the neck, growling a little about teasing little Cats as he’s turned and backed up onto the bed. There’s a frantic push and pull, as clothes get tossed away amidst Danny’s giggles and Tim’s laughter, as kisses get stolen and hands roam this way and that.
There’s a moment where he catches a glimpse of them in the vanity mirror next to his bed. The smeared lipstick and bitten marks all over his neck and shoulders, hair a disheveled mess as Tim licks his way down down down . He loses himself to the feeling of it, drifting away with only a single thought beyond good and yes and more:
Gods, does Red look so good on him.