Chapter Text
The sun streamed in through the hotel window, warm on Tim’s back, and his pillowcase was soft and silky against the skin of his cheek. It was nice. Or it would’ve been if he didn’t feel like someone was whacking him across the head repeatedly with a baseball bat.
Something was ringing, loud and incessant, and he squeezed his eyes shut, praying to every deity he could think of for it to stop. The lump of metal that was his phone, or would be after he’d crushed it with a hammer and threw it into a fire, was unsympathetic to his pleas. It continued to ring and the sound streaked through his head and pulsed behind his eyes.
Groaning, he flung out a hand and felt around for his phone before rolling onto his back and squinting up at the too-bright screen. Honestly, fuck whoever thought it was appropriate to call him this side of midday while he was on holiday.
57 missed calls.
He raised an eyebrow and yawned as functionality returned to him lazily. Clearly, a lot of people thought it was appropriate.
Dick: Congratulations. I’m pissed at you but I kinda get it so I’ll…
Steph: Hey! I didn’t know that you told him but I’m not surprised that he…
Bruce: Don’t worry, I’m handling the media but call me. Now, please.
Okay… They weren’t the weirdest texts he’d ever received. He frowned. Surely, if it had been that important Batman would be in the hotel lobby.
Bart_ahhh tagged you and one other in a post
The Gazette (4 hours ago)
Bruce Wayne’s youngest eligible bachelor is off the market: Timothy Drake-Wayne eloped in Vegas [EXCLUSIVE pictures]
63 unread messag-
Tim jolted upright, breathless. His eyes scanned over the headline again. Timothy Drake-Wayne eloped… Timothy Drake-Wayne what?
The bed jostled and there was a groan followed by a slurred, ‘stop moving.’
Tim’s head whipped around to stare at the sprawled out mess of limbs that was his platonic best friend, his eyes were drawn, in particular, to a large hand adorned with a plastic blue ring identical to Tim’s.
‘S’too early to wake up,’ Conner stretched across the bed, hair messy, lips pouting, pillowcase stained with drool.
Plastic blue ring identical to Tim’s?
Slowly, Tim lifted his trembling left hand and gazed with wide eyes at the ring on his fourth finger.
‘Conner,’ it came out high pitched and strained, ‘Conner, wake up.’
‘I said s’too early,’ he used the pillow to cover his ears pointedly and a less stressed voice in the back of Tim’s head scoffed. Sure, it’s eleven am but that’s too early for Mr. up-at-the-crack-of-dawn-farm-boy.
Instead of saying that aloud, he managed a quiet and, frankly, impressively calm, ‘Conner.’
Which the other boy didn’t appreciate. ‘Go away. Die.’
Tim’s phone buzzed in his hand, display lighting up with Bruce’s name and there was a stuttering second before the ringing started. Heart pounding, he tossed the device onto the floor. His eyes flickered between it and the matching rings. He was a logical man. He couldn’t just ignore the evidence, he couldn’t… think, shit. His head throbbed.
Breathless, he surged forward and switched off the phone before throwing it back down onto the carpet as if it had offended him… or as if it had forced him to go out and marry his platonic best friend. Platonic in the sense that Conner thought of Tim as his best friend and Tim was seventy percent sure that Conner was the love of his life.
Tim filed that thought away for later - Obviously, he was admitting that to himself now. Interesting that it only took marriage to get him there - his attention monopolized by the air seemingly wrapping around him and tugging him back down to the mattress.
‘Conner,’ he ignored his best friend’s annoyed grumbling and took a deep breath, ‘I think we got married last night.’
The invisible weight encasing him disappeared and Conner froze so completely that Tim wondered if he was breathing. It was concerning, actually, but Tim was immensely grateful that he hadn’t immediately started yelling. It gave him a moment to struggle through his sluggish thoughts and categorize the evidence.
He rubbed at his pounding head. The news article could easily be an exaggeration, it was unlikely that any picture ‘proof’ they’d gotten their hands on would be all that damning, and his family regularly blew things out of proportion. He inhaled and let that knowledge relax him.
Still, the rings were a variable that he couldn’t explain because he couldn’t exactly remember where they’d got them nor could he come up with a reason they’d be wearing them if it wasn’t for… Tim grimaced.
But, there was still more evidence against the fact; Firstly, Tim couldn’t remember it and he was sure he’d remember getting married. Secondly, Tim had kept a lid on his crush for so long it was unlikely that he’d voiced it last night no matter how drunk he was. And thirdly, Conner-
Wait, Conner couldn’t even get drunk.
The bed jolted as Conner’s brain finally computed and he jerked upright, expression alarmed, limbs tangled in the sheets,
‘You did what?’
‘We,’ he corrected, ‘Me and you, presumably, got married last night,’ Tim twisted his ring, ‘but you wouldn’t have let that happen. So what did happen last night?’
Tim felt his insides twist as Conner stared, transfixed, at the ring on his finger. That wasn’t the look of someone that knew how it got there. He seemed to register Tim’s question then because he winced, a flicker of fear in his eyes. That certainly wasn’t the look of someone about to solve all of Tim’s problems.
‘Conner,’ Tim said slowly, ‘I thought you couldn’t get drunk.’
‘I never said that,’ he defended quickly, ‘I can get drunk. It just takes more than it does for you.’
‘How much more?’
‘I don’t know-’
‘You don’t know? How haven’t you explored your powers to the-’
‘Hey. I like being surprised.’
‘Oh, you must love this.’
‘Stop it, Tim. This isn’t my fault.’
Tim buried his face in his hands. Conner was right. If this was anyone’s fault it was his. How else would they have ended up married unless Tim opened his stupid mouth and- He took a deep breath.
‘I know. I’m sorry. I’m just stressed and my head fucking hates me.’
‘Tell me about it,’ Conner groaned, ‘I didn’t know it was possible to be this tired.’
Tim looked him over, taking in the strong muscles of his back and the way that his arms flexed as he tried to tame his perfectly tousled hair. He didn’t look tired. Tim’s teeth found the cushion of his lip. He looked-
‘Let’s get everything straight,’ Tim brushed the thought away and forced himself to avert his eyes, ‘do you remember anything from last night?’
‘Bits and pieces,’ Conner replied after a second, ‘I remember a chapel but I don’t remember the decisions that actually got us there.’
Tim swallowed and nodded, ‘same for me. I remember the whole night just not the specifics and- Oh god-’
For every shot you do I’ll do two that way we’ll be the same amount of drunk.
Okay, but I’ve done six.
Awesome, I’ll do twelve.
But you’ve already done eight. Does that mean I have to do four? Or do you have to do four?
Both. You do four and I’ll do sixteen and then because that’s an extra four you do another two.
Yeah, that makes sense.
‘-you suck at math. How don’t I have alcohol poisoning?’ he whispered, pinching the bridge of his nose.
‘That’s something that can happen to you?’ Conner’s concern morphed into a groan when he looked at his phone screen, ‘god, my eyes hurt. Is this why you’re so grumpy all of the time?’
Tim chose to ignore him, sitting up properly and feeling around his nightstand for a hair tie.
‘Tim,’ Conner sounded breathless, ‘I have so many messages.’
Before Tim could even attempt to calm him down, words tumbled from his lips, fast and panicked.
‘Ma says congratulations. I- Lois is upset I didn’t tell her. Dick’s added me to a group chat. Holy shit, Clark’s messaged me. People I haven’t even spoken to since before I died. And I think that Lex is, uh, giving us… a boat? And there’s this unknown number-’
‘Let me see?’
Conner thrust the phone in his face and Tim scanned the number.
‘Yeah, that’s Bruce. Don’t answer that.’
Conner gaped.
‘I have a missed call from Batman. I have missed calls from Batman.’
The blood drained from Conner’s face leaving him pale and wide-eyed. Tim wanted to reach out and brush a thumb along his jaw just to see if it would bring the color back to his cheeks. Tim swallowed and looked down.
‘Bruce is, well… okay, so he’s not the least of our worries but he’s not at the top,’ Tim stood up, giving up on his search for a hair tie given that this was definitely Conner’s room, ‘turn off your phone. We need to figure out exactly what’s going on before responding to anyone.’
Tim picked up his clothes from last night and wrinkled his nose. Covered in glitter and… wet?
‘You’ll have to lend me something to wear so I don’t have to walk back to my hotel room in boxers.’
Tim glanced over his shoulder to see Conner look down quickly, lip caught between his teeth, cheeks dusted red. Perhaps the hangover did affect him after all. And then he looked back and his expression contorted in confusion.
‘Wait, did you just- Is this- This isn’t your room?’
Tim rolled his eyes, ‘obviously not, it- wait-’ Tim’s heart stuttered, ‘is this not your room?’
Conner shook his head, eyes round and horrified.
‘Conner,’ Tim whispered, voice breathy with panic, ‘did we sleep in someone else’s room?’
Conner squeaked. He actually squeaked and-
The door knocked.
They stared at each other for a moment until Conner mouthed, say something, and Tim shook his head vigorously, gesturing in a manner that he hoped conveyed an indignant go fuck yourself.
The door knocked again but this time it was accompanied by a voice,
‘Is it safe for me to come in because I don’t wanna learn that patience is a virtue at all let alone by getting an eyeful of newlywed-’
Conner leaped to his feet and Tim lunged for the door. He yanked Bart in by his collar and slammed the door shut behind him. His heart pattered in his chest, partly out of relief and partly out of anticipation because-
‘What the hell happened last night?’ Conner beat him to the punch, leaning forward eagerly and… Tim was suddenly very aware that Conner’s bare chest was inches from his back. He was warm and Tim shifted backward subconsciously like a moth to a flame. He reorientated himself, cheeks burning.
‘Necessary information only,’ Tim cut Bart off before he could start, grimacing as his earlier words finally registered. Newlyweds did not bode well.
‘Woah, cool down, dude. It was nothing crazy. I was celebrating Cassie’s birthday, spending your money, watching you two use math to attempt to get Conner drunk, y’know normal night. Next thing I know, I look away for a literal quarterofasecond and you were getting married and like, youknowhowyouare when you’re set on something, man,’ he shot Tim a somewhat apologetic look and then shrugged, ‘nothing I could do but watch, take photos, and try to keep Cassie from killing you for stealing her spotlight. Honestly, I gotta take her side, getting married on someone else’s birthday is a bit of a dick move. So, anyway, Iguessthegettingdrunkthingworked! Congrats! How was it?’
‘Bad. Also, is this your room?’ Conner asked at the same time as Tim repeated, voice low, ‘take photos?’
‘Nah. This is the honeymoon suite,’ he flung himself down on the bed, sinking into the softness before propping himself up on his elbows, ‘did ya use it?’
Conner spluttered and Tim took a step forward, speaking slowly,
‘Take photos?’
‘Well, yeah,’ Bart blinked up at him like he was acting stupid, ‘I didn’t want you to forget. Married people like photos right? Technicallyyoushouldpaymeforthem. But with the amount of your money I lost last night, Ithinkwecanprobably call it even. So, did ya use it?’
‘No. We did not use it.’ Tim would definitely remember that. He held out his hand stiffly. ‘Phone.’
‘What. Why? Your phone is right there.’
‘My phone is literally unusable right now and Kon almost had a panic attack looking at his,’ Bart handed him his phone sulkily and Tim had to tamp down on all murderous urges when he saw the flurry of Instagram notifications, ‘go and get us our suitcases from our rooms.’
‘Why?’
Tim looked down at himself, gesturing pointedly, ‘and also I kinda wanna wrap my hands round your neck right now.’
‘Right. Okay. I feel like now isn’t the time for a jokeaboutcatchingme. Anyway, bye.’ And then he was gone.
Tim sat on the edge of the bed took a moment to steel himself before clicking on Instagram and tilting the screen toward Conner.
The first picture - because there was an entire gallery of them and that made Tim’s grip on the phone tighten until his knuckles turned white - made him feel weak at the knees. They were in a chapel, holding hands and staring at one another like there was no one else in the world. No wonder everyone thought it was real. They didn’t look drunk. Just over-smiley and a little giddy in the way that Tim supposed most couples looked on their wedding day. The next image was similar, just with Bart’s hair sticking up in the corner, and the next was one of them sitting together. Picture-Tim leaned against picture-Conner like it was his right to be there and picture-Conner grinned into picture-Tim’s hair. He stared at it and his heart palpitated as his finger hovered over the screen.
‘They’re not too bad,’ Conner’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts, ‘I mean the quality is terrible like the photos are objectively bad but-’
‘Plausible deniability,’ Tim finished with a nod, ‘yeah, we could brush it off. Say we were just messing around. The press might be a little suspicious but they’ll drop it after a day or so of us being apart.’
He swiped onto the fourth and final image that… wasn’t an image. It was a video.
‘-for richer or poorer, for as long as you both shall live?’
‘I do,’ video-Conner boomed with a bright grin that made Tim’s heart stutter.
‘Timothy, do you take Conner to be your lawfully wedded partner, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and bad, for richer or poorer, for as long as you both shall live?’
‘I do,’ the certainty in his own voice made him want to push the phone away and shrink into himself until he disappeared.
Instead, he watched, horrified, as video-them exchanged rings. The only evidence that the whole marriage was actually a dumb drunken mistake rather than a declaration of love was Cassie’s relentless giggling. The malice in her laugh could easily be misconstrued as happiness for her two best friends.
‘By the authority vested in me by the State of Nevada, I now pronounce you married."
Her giggling became a loud cackle as video-Conner took video-Tim’s chin in his hand and kissed him firmly on the mouth. Bart whooped loudly and the video cut, plunging the hotel room into silence.
‘Well…’ Conner said awkwardly.
Half a million views. Overnight. Tim buried his head in his hands.
‘Yeah,’ he sighed, ‘that one’s gonna be a problem.’
‘Does everyone understand the plan?’ was the first thing that Tim said when Cassie, Conner, and Bart returned to the table with plates piled high with bacon and eggs.
The hotel restaurant was bustling, people talking, plates scraping, the sound of slot machines whirring and change dropping drifting in from the other rooms. Tim held his canned energy drink to his nose and breathed in the sweet-sour smell in an attempt to cover the stomach-turning smell of grease.
‘Yes. For the third time, we get it,’ Cassie replied through a mouthful of eggs.
Tim’s nose wrinkled as he sipped at his drink and watched them eat.
‘For a bunch of convoluted reasons you guys are gonna pretend you were sober, stay married for a bit, and then get divorced when things calm down.’
‘Yeah, it’s easy. We just have to pretend that we knew about it before. Thanks for trusting me with your fake-secret relationship. Canyouhurryupwiththesyrup?’
Conner fixed Cassie a look and handed Bart the syrup, ‘it’s not that convoluted. Ma would kill me if she found out what really happened.’
Tim rolled his eyes, ‘and the press would eat me alive if they found out I got drunk and married in Vegas. Plus, thanks to Bart’s video, my entire family thinks it’s real, and do you know how embarrassing it would be to…’ Explain to a bunch of detectives that the guy you’re so clearly in love with doesn’t actually love you back. He trailed off.
‘Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad,’ Conner offered weakly, ‘you could be the cool, relatable, fun-loving CEO-in-the-making.’
‘No,’ Tim raised an eyebrow, ‘I would be the reckless, immature, incapable child but thank you for trying.’
‘Yeah, well, this sounds like a living nightmare,’ Cassie wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and eyed his drink, nose wrinkling, ‘I can’t believe you’re drinking that at this time in the morning.’
Tim clasped his can defensively. He was well aware of his health and he factored the various surgery drinks into his diet, balancing them out with healthy meals and a lack of desserts, not because he was punishing himself, just because he really liked the drinks. He knew that everyone at the table had equal, if not worse, eating habits. Conner literally ate six meals a day, Bart had a nightstand like a stoner with the munchies, and he’d caught Cassie on her knees for Cissie more than once.
‘Okay, firstly,’ he sounded mildly offended, ‘it’s actually midday. Secondly, I’m on vacation. Thirdly, I’m stressed so can we cut me some slack please?’
Cassie rolled her eyes and gave him a look that said you deserve this.
‘Firstly, you got married on my twenty-third birthday. I'm not cutting you any slack for the next six weeks. Secondly, you’re on vacation? How’s that case I saw you working on in your hotel room going?’
Tim put down his can in exchange for a mouthful of godawful hotel coffee and shrugged.
‘Should you be drinking those together?’ Conner raised an eyebrow, ‘that’s not very optimal health of you,’ he shoveled a fork full of bacon into his mouth and Tim felt a little dazed by the grease coating his lips. The thought of eating made him want to vomit but he’d lean forward and lick the taste from Conner’s mouth without hesitation. It was… concerning and more than a little gross.
‘The case is going okay,’ he replied, ‘there’s only been one more dead body since we left. Same pattern as the others. Guy, early twenties, attractive in a malnourished kinda way, dark hair, student-type,’ he waved his hand, ‘I’ll figure it out. Also-’ he turned to the side and aimed a hard kick at Conner under the table that accomplished nothing but hurting his own foot but it made him feel better all the same ‘-I’m on vacation.’
‘Same, man,’ Bart’s chair jolted with the force of which he sat down, carrying his fourth plate of food, ‘but you should eat something.’
Before he could protest, Bart thrust a small triangle of toast into his mouth. He pinched the slice between his fingers and bit down, feeling the buttery texture coat his tongue and the roof of his mouth.
‘How generous of you,’ Tim drawled.
Bart shrugged, ‘don’t say I don’t love ya.’
Tim turned to Conner and raised an eyebrow expectantly.
‘Sorry, you’re kind of fragile,’ Conner ignored his glare, gesturing wildly with his fork, ‘we all see where this case is going right?’
There was a chorus of agreement and Tim narrowed his eyes.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
Conner gave him a look unimpressed enough to rival Alfred and he spluttered.
‘Yeah, well, call me when you go after the guy.’
‘Or me,’ Cassie interrupted and her voice dwarfed Bart’s muffled or me, ‘no working cases where you match the victim’s profile alone.’
Tim made an indignant sound but he didn’t protest. His cheeks felt warm because, well, did all that mean that Conner thought he was attractive?
He finished his toast only for another triangle to be shoved his way. He glared, but he bit into it anyway. He knew better than to leave food offered by Bart. At least it was wholemeal.
He tuned out their conversation and let his mind drift as he chewed toast. He’d spent the last half hour crafting and sending messages to everyone in his family. He hadn’t called Bruce but he was fairly certain a text would suffice. It was Dick that had offered him his alibi in the end. His older brother had assumed that Tim hadn’t felt comfortable enough to tell them about Conner because he knew how the bats felt about boundaries. Namely, how they ignored them.
Tim had simply agreed. He’d said he didn’t want to subject Conner to that kind of scrutiny. Sure, he felt a little bad for making them all feel guilty - obviously, he’d never actually hide a relationship from them because of their dumb boundary issues. He wasn’t that hypocritical. Jesus - but if it got Bruce to cut down on the surveillance a little then that was an unexpected bonus.
Something flicked at his ear and Tim made a face.
‘What?’
‘I asked you a question.’
‘And I clearly didn’t hear it,’ he huffed, ‘so what was it?’
‘What do I say to Ma and Pa? Everything I write sounds like a lie. They know me and they’ll know if I’m lying.’
Tim bit down on a scathing comment about that being an issue and snatched the phone from Conner’s hand. He typed a message and showed it to him. He made a face and Tim groaned.
‘Fine,’ he adjusted the message, ‘I’ll be the one who was insecure about telling people. Happy? Good.’
He sent the text and switched off Conner’s phone. He really didn’t need him to accidentally answer Bruce. If he couldn’t lie to Ma and Pa then he wasn’t ready to lie to Batman.
‘What am I supposed to say to the press?’
Tim groaned. The thought of Conner talking to reporters physically pained him. He picked up a fork and stabbed a slice of apple from Cassie’s plate to a predictable glare and a get your own. He ignored her and stabbed another. The toast had settled his stomach and he could use something healthy to get him through the flight home.
‘I’ll go through it with you on the plane. Yes, we are all taking the plane.’
He used the subsequent groaning as a distraction to tug Cassie’s plate closer to the center of the table. Bart’s bowl of yogurt, berries, and granola had caught his eye but he wasn’t about to steal food from Bart. So he settled for his apple. Well, Cassie’s apple.
‘I just think you’re making this very difficult for yourselves,’ Cassie said after a moment, scooping up a mouthful of pancakes and resigning herself to sharing a plate with Tim, ‘so what? You’re gonna pretend you’ve been dating for two years? What about milestones y’know? When was your first kiss? Your first date? How did you get together? Shouldn’t you be living together by now?’
Bart paused mid-mouthful, ‘do I gotta know all this?’
Tim sighed in exasperation, ‘Conner and I will figure out the details on the plane. You guys just need to remember that you found out we were dating about a year ago and that we came here intending to get married quietly. Everything else can be vague. No one’s gonna quiz you.’
‘On your birthday I’m gonna upstage you so bad that people literally forget that you ever existed,’ Cassie grumbled and stabbed at her pancakes.
‘She does kinda have a point though,’ Tim glanced at Conner and leaned back in his chair as he resigned himself to the next few months of close proximity and high tension, ‘you’re gonna have to move in with me.’
Conner’s head jerked upward and his eyes widened.
‘Why can’t you move in with me?’
Tim rolled his eyes, ‘you live on a farm with other people and you can literally fly anywhere at the drop of a hat. I live alone. Close to the things I need to do. I have a spare room. We’ll just share the apartment for a while. You can handle a few months in Gotham I’m sure.’
Conner’s jaw dropped, ‘months?’
‘What did you expect, Kon? This has to look real. Weeks won’t do that,’ he tried to sound less defensive as he continued but the words just came out bitter, ‘so we’ll be roommates for a bit. You’re re-doing what you missed at school during the day, right? I’m out at night. We’ll hardly see each other.’
‘So how long is this going to last?’ His tone was impassive, bordering on light, and Tim knew that he’d overreacted. When he replied, he forced himself to relax,
‘I’d say we keep up the happily married charade until Christmas. Then we start to complain to our families - you know, you tell your family I’m too messy, I tell mine that you’re arrogant, hot-headed, and attractive but not worth the attention you draw. We’ll be quietly divorced by the end of January.’
Cassie snorted and Conner leaned back in his seat. He rested an arm along the back of Tim’s chair and smirked.
‘You think I’m attractive?’
‘Arrogant,’ he repeated, surprised by how cool he sounded considering his heart was beating a mile a minute.
‘Movie nights should totally be at your place instead of the tower,’ Bart twisted to sit sideways in his seat, elbows spread behind his head, ‘you still have that sound system you had at the mansion right?’
‘It’s a manor, not a mansion. Drake Manor. But, yeah, I-’
‘So, what?’ Cassie interrupted, ‘you guys are gonna figure all this out, teach Conner how to lie to your detective family-’ Tim didn’t need superhearing to know that Conner gulped beside him, ‘-and move him into your apartment, all on the flight home?’
‘My family isn't that invasive. They’ll give us a few days to recover from being away.’
Bart made a face and he didn’t have to look around to know that the others mirrored it. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
‘Okay, so, a couple of hours? Maybe,’ he said weakly. He glanced at both Bart and Cassie’s skeptical expressions and sighed. So they didn’t believe they could do it. Well, Tim pushed that negativity away before it could overwhelm him. They’d sent the messages. It was too late to change their minds now.
‘How hard can it be anyway?’ he shrugged and leaned backward, inadvertently resting the back of his head against Conner’s arm, ‘he literally owns two t-shirts and a pair of jeans.’
‘Hey. And my jacket.’
Tim gulped the last of his energy drink before amending with a grin,
‘And his jacket.’