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“Are… are you naked?”
It’s the first question he thinks to ask after watching the two vigilantes calm down after startling them awake. He’d been expecting one vigilante. He knows how to walk into a room to avoid drawing murderous intent from a sleepy Tim after a six months of living together and a year sharing a bed.
He didn’t know Nightwing would be there.
Luckily, Tim is fast enough to keep Dick from releasing the throwing knife he’d pulled from somewhere under the pastel paisley covers Steph had bought them as a home warming present (he thinks it was supposed to be a joke gift but the covers are warm and Tim runs cold). He’d reached out, blurry eyed and sleep mused, to wrap long fingers around Dick’s wrist and hummed one long note. Bernard had watched in mild fascination as all the tension leaked out of the older’s shoulders and the knife had clattered harmlessly to the ground.
“Tired,” Tim mumbles into Dick’s shoulders.
Dick is already falling back asleep, turning his back to Bernard to nose weakly at Tim’s collarbone. The covers have fallen low enough he can see the bare expanse of the vigilante’s back, the network of scar tissue that implies a history Bernard is never going to know. There is no fabric to hide the swell of Gotham’s most famous ass.
Tim adjusts the covers, shielding Nightwing's nudity from his eyes. His chest is bare. Bernard hopes, mildly, that Tim is wearing pajama bottoms. From the way the covers fall he can make out the tangle of Dick and Tim’s legs as they fall back asleep, wrapped around each other.
He wants to press but gives up when he sees Tim’s slow blinks, the exhaustion weighing him down.
“I’ll be in the living room,” Bernard grumbles, stepping out of the room with ill-grace. It won’t be the first time he’s spent a night on the living room coach because of Dick Grayson but this time feels especially insulting.
Tim makes a questioning sound, eyes already slipping shut.
“Good night,” Bernard whispers, closing the door behind him.
He sighs, deep and weary. Fucking Dick Grayson.
.
Bernard wakes to soft kisses and the ticklish sensation of long hair grazing his cheeks. Humming in delight, he twists to catch Tim’s lips in his, pulling the man close until he topples over to lay awkwardly on top of Bernard on the sofa.
“Good morning,” Tim laughs, pulling away to grin brightly down at him.
“Good morning, Beautiful,” Bernard leans up to give him a peck and then two more for good luck. “Sleep okay?”
Tim hums, resting his head on Bernard’s chest. “Missed you.”
Bernard starts to pet his hair, relaxing back into the cushions, “Rough patrol?”
“God, don’t even get me started,” Tim groans, “I just… You know what, Dick can explain it better. Dick!”
Bernard flinches as Tim screams. Right… he’s here.
“Yeah!” comes a call from the kitchen -- his kitchen! Twisting his head, he sees Dick Grayson walk out of the door leading to their humble gallery kitchen, wearing the Gudetama apron Tim had gifted him for their one year anniversary and holding a black spatula. Dick smiles when he catches Bernard’s eye, “Morning! I’m making eggs. Any preferences? Tim said you preferred fried.”
Bernard has a second to consider being petty before the annoyance of being forced to sleep on the coach slips away under the weight of Tim’s sunny disposition. “Fried is good, thanks.”
Dick flashes him a thumbs up -- the considerate asshole.
“So why are we calling my name at eleven AM on a crisp Saturday morning,” Dick asks, leaning casually against the doorway. Clearly whatever cooking he is doing can wait a few minutes.
“Patrol last night. Bernard is curious,” Tim says, snuggling closer. Bernard can’t help but smile. His boyfriend is so cute like this. He drags his nails through Tim’s hair and feels his slow exhale as he sinks down, slowly turning into dead weight.
“Oh God,” Dick huffs, pinching his nose with his freehand. “Where do I even start? This whole week has been fucked.”
Tim nods his head in agreement.
“So Harley and Ivy are on another ‘break’” he says with exaggerated air quotes, rolling his eyes. “So the Sirens are a bit of a mess right now. Which means Selena has been giving Bruce a hard time and canceled three of their last six dates to rob someone despite this being the longest she’s been in the city in months.”
“So of course Bruce is upset and refuses to talk to anybody about it,” Tim butts in, shifting to lace their fingers together as he silently urges Bernard to keep scratching his head.
“So he’s been taking it out on us and insisting patrol needs to last longer,” Dick adds, striding across the room to throw himself onto the opposing sofa, waving around Bernard’s spatula for flare. “And Jason begged me to come over to get him to calm down and maybe talk about it.”
“Which has not helped,” Tim sighs.
“Which has not helped,” Dick agrees. “Because instead of opening up and having a serious conversation about expectations in their relationship, Bruce has started talking to Talia… again.”
Tim groans, shielding his eyes with their joint hands. “He always does this! Even though he knows it’s going to make him sadder.”
“Wait…” Bernard frowns, sitting up slightly so Tim slides down to faceplant in his stomach. “Isn’t Talia seeing that new guy… ahh…”
“Yamir, exactly!” Dick laughs, slumping over. “Which is annoying Damian because he really likes Yamir.”
“Didn’t they visit Gotham last month for Easter?” Bernard frowns. He’d been invited but his parents had insisted he go to their Church party. It had been exhausting, the only highlight being Tim’s petty texts that he’d had to sneak away to respond to while dodging passive-aggressive attempts at getting him to talk to some of the Church Girls.
“He’s really nice and handsome and younger ,” Tim emphasizes the last word, shooting Bernard a knowing look. “Which doesn’t help because The Gotham Gaze described Bruce as ‘foxy’ with ‘a timeless look’ last month.”
Bernard winces. Yeah… that would do it.
“I’m pretty sure if we can get through this without Damian stabbing someone I’m going to take it as a win,” Dick says, sitting up. “Which after last night…”
Tim looks like he’s going to cry. “God last night…”
Dick turns to Bernard, “We were investigating this oil tycoon, Fletch Hardwell, whose visiting Gotham who probably-”
“Most likely.”
“Shush,” Dick snaps playfully. “Am I telling the story or are you?”
Tim flips him off but dutifully falls silent.
“Has ties to the Royal Flush Gang. When lo and behold guess who decided to show up?”
Bernard winces, “Catwoman.”
“Right in one!” Dick cheers, smiling turning slightly manic, “And next thing we know, Bruce is off chasing her and we’ve got the fucking Freaks popping up out of nowhere and Jason might or might not have ‘accidentally’ set Flech’s fancy hotel room on fire.” Dick pauses for dramatic affect, twirling the spatula between his fingers. “We then spent the next three hours evacuating the surrounding four blocks because apparently they constructed Hotel Blue out of tinder.”
“I’m pretty sure I heard Bruce screaming from the Diamond District,” Tim’s eyes are closed. If he weren’t speaking, Bernard would wonder if he’d fallen back asleep.
“Which is why I decided to crash here instead of heading back to the manor,” Dick summarizes with a flourish, jumping to his feet. “Speaking of which, thanks for letting me crash, Buddy. I really appreciate it.”
Bernard tries not to feel like a complete asshole as he lies, “Sure, Man. I get it.”
“Coffee?” Dick asks as he heads back into the kitchen.
“Yeah, that’d be great,” Bernard calls back, turning to rest more comfortably against the arm rest, as Tim slips back into his arms, head pillowed comfortably against his chest.
“Alright! Give me twenty and we’ll have brunch,” Dick calls out from the kitchen. After a few minutes, Bernard can hear him start to whistle something that sounds suspiciously like the Sailor Moon theme song.
Bernard snorts despite himself. There is a part of him that could get used to this. Tim wrapped around him, Dick in his kitchen, like they’re all part of the same cozy domestic sitcom. Someone could describe it as… nice.
He waits until Dick starts rattling pans before speaking again. “So… is this gonna be a regular thing now?”
Tim blinks up at him, eyes still hazy with sleep. “What? Breakfast?”
“No. I mean…” Bernard hesitates, then gestures vaguely toward the bedroom. “Dick. Spending the night. Naked.”
Tim makes a soft noise and rolls off him, curling up on the couch beside him. “Ah… He hadn’t left any clean pajamas last time,” he explains, sheepishly. “It wasn’t planned and it’s not like I haven’t seen my brothers naked before. You know how it goes sometimes.”
“Right. Emergency sleepover.” Bernard tries to keep his tone light, but something bitter must still slip through because Tim frowns,lips pressing into a thin line. There is a wrinkle between his eyebrows that he only gets when he’s trying to work out a particularly difficult problem.
“You’re mad… because we were naked?”
He draws a tired breath and rubs the back of his neck. “No. That’s not… Look, I’m not trying to be a jerk here. I get that you and Dick are close. I really do. And I respect it. But I was excited to spend a night with my boyfriend only to find another man in our bed. Again.”
Tim jaw clenching as he fights to keep his face neutral. “Bernard, you know it’s not like that. We were just-”
“-Sleeping,” Bernard cuts him off. They’ve had this argument, back in the beginning, when Bernard hadn’t understood how… codependent… the two could be. “I know it’s not romantic. But it’s still…”
“A lot?” Tim finishes, curling up tighter, leaning away.
Bernard looks away, guilt making his throat tight as he tries to swallow. “I didn’t… Tim,” he says weary. “I love you. You’re not too much and I don’t regret being with you. I just need you to consider this from my perspective.”
Tim refuses to look at him. “I know it might be… weird. But you have to see it my way. I’ve known him my whole life. He’s… We’ve been through a lot together, things I can’t tell you, things I’m afraid to tell you. He’s… He’s my safe place.”
If Bernard were paying attention, this would be the moment he noticed the sounds from the kitchen had faded away. But he doesn’t have the bandwidth to pay attention to that, not as he watches Tim curl away from him.
He wishes he’d kept his mouth shut.
He knows it’s too late to take it all back.
“I understand or… I want to understand,” Bernard clarifies. He’s never had a person like that. Perhaps the closest he’s come is… is Tim .
And it’s not like he hates Dick Grayson. Maybe if Dick were a stranger—some cocky interloper who liked to slip into his boyfriend's bed and circle their lives like a vulture—it’d be easier to take all his frustration and transform it into righteous anger. But Dick is… well. Dick. Smiling, charming, frustratingly kind Dick. Who texts Bernard memes. Who calls him “buddy” without any irony. Who makes Tim smile like he’s seeing the sun for the first time, who helps Tim feel okay after rough nights when he comes home bleeding. Who is just there and reliable and good without needing anything in return.
He likes Dick Grayson.
And maybe… maybe “I think… I’m jealous,” Bernard admits, wrapping his arms around himself, looking at the love of his life who turns to stare at him with wide eyes. “I want to be the kind of person you feel safe with and I don’t know how. And now here is this really good guy who's already taking that spot… I just…”
Tim exhales and uncurls, leaning back against the sofa cushions. “But he’s not taking your spot, Bern. It’s not a competition for me. I need you both. I love you and I love him. But it’s a different kind of love.”
Cautiously Tim reaches out to take his hand and Bernard goes easy, leaning against Tim’s shoulder while Tim plays with his fingers. “I don’t want to lose either of you.”
Bernard turns to bury his face in Tim’s shoulder, kissing lightly at the exposed skin where his oversized sleeping shirt has slipped down. Bernard’s heart aches. “I don’t want you to either.”
They sit like that for a moment, letting the quiet settle over them. Then:
“Hey!” Dick’s voice floats in from the kitchen. “Hope you guys are hungry because I might have made too many eggs.”
Tim looks to Bernard as if asking for permission.
“I’m starving,” Bernard calls back, slipping out of Tim’s hold to stand. He doesn’t hesitate to offer his hand, to draw Tim up and into his arms. He presses a quick kiss against Tim’s cheek, a silent apology.
Tim turns to nuzzle their noses together, a quiet acceptance.
“Just don’t burn the toast this time,” Tim quips from the safety of Bernard’s arms.
“I never burn the toast!” Dick replies clearly offended.
“That’s a lie,” Tim whispers with a warm smile, the smile only Dick Grayson could pull from him, easy as breathing.
Bernard snorts against his will and lets the tension ease from his shoulders. He still doesn’t love the idea of Dick Grayson in his kitchen, making eggs on what should have been a lovely Saturday morning with his boyfriend. But he’ll learn to live with it. To keep Tim, he’d learn to live with a lot.
As they shuffle into the kitchen, Bernard watches Dick dancing to his own soundtrack, plating perfectly fried eggs with runny yokes like a professional and popping the toast out of the toaster with more flourish than necessary. Bernard’s apron sits comfortably on his hips, hiding the too tight sleeping shorts he must have stolen from Tim’s closet.
Tim slides onto the barstool beside Bernard and bumps their knees together.
Dick sets two plates in front of them, his own already sitting in front of his seat. “Voilà! Breakfast à la Grayson.”
“Merci,” Tim says, stealing a piece of toast from Dick’s plate before he can sit down.
“Thief.” Dick flicks him on the ear, then sits across from them. He catches Tim throwing an odd look Dick’s way, there and gone before he can interpret it. “So, what’s the plan for today?”
A petty part of Bernard wants to ask Dick to leave but it drowns under the memory of Tim’s quiet voice as he begged Bernard not to force Tim to choose. Because that is what he would be doing if he drew a line in the sand. So instead he says, “The museum has a new photography exhibit.”
Tim smiles, bright and beautiful and perfect. “You remembered!”
Bernard reaches over to clasp their hands together, squeezing gently, “Of course.”
“That sounds nice,” Dick smiles, taking a bite of pancake. “If I could just use your shower, I can be out of your hair in 30 minutes.”
It’s the perfect out. Bernard wants to take it. But Tim looks so happy… “You can join us,” he says. “I know how hard it is for you to get to Gotham.”
Tim squeezes his hand in thanks.
“You sure?” Dick asks, looking at Bernard and then Tim, searching for something. He seems to find whatever he’s looking for because he relaxes back in his seat (and Bernard hadn’t realized he was so tense). “I don’t mind heading back to the manor.”
“I’ll spare you the Bat lecture,” Bernard jokes. This could work. He could make this work -- bat puns and brunch. After all, Dick Grayson really is a nice guy. “Apparently, you can hear them all the way from the Diamond District.”
Tim laughs.
Dick hides his cackle behind another bite of pancakes.
The sun is bright. The sky is as clear as it can get in Gotham. Today looks like a good day.
So what if some nights he loses his bed to Dick Grayson? After all, Bernard has a feeling that if he forced the issue… Well, some questions are best left unanswered.
(Especially, when you know you won't like the answer.)