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They'd just wrapped up another case for Bruce, one that had somehow ended with more paperwork than punches, and Jason had insisted they celebrate. That was how they found themselves crammed into a dingy bar somewhere off the Las Vegas Strip, nursing drinks that were far too cheap and listening to music that was far too loud.
Tim was well past tipsy.
Jason, on the other hand, was only pleasantly buzzed—just sober enough to realize this conversation was about to go spectacularly off the rails.
Tim leaned heavily against the bar, swirling the melting ice in his glass before turning toward Jason with the kind of grin that only appeared when he was either incredibly drunk or about to make an objectively terrible decision.
"Dude," Tim slurred, pointing at him with complete confidence, "let's get married."
Jason blinked.
"...What?"
"Married." Tim nodded like he'd just suggested grabbing another round. "Like, actually married."
Jason stared at him for a long second, trying to decide whether he'd misheard him over the music.
"You've finally lost it."
"No, no, hear me out." Tim held up both hands, nearly dropping his drink in the process. "Think about it."
"I don't want to."
"But you have to!" Tim laughed, almost falling off his stool before catching himself. "Bruce would absolutely lose his mind."
Jason snorted despite himself.
Tim took that as encouragement.
"And Dick?" he continued, eyes bright with drunken excitement. "Dick would short-circuit. Like, completely. Can you imagine his face if we just showed up one day wearing wedding rings?"
Jason could.
Dick would probably assume he'd missed six months of emotional development. Bruce would demand to know why no one had informed him. Alfred would simply congratulate them and somehow make everyone else feel ridiculous for questioning it.
"...You're suggesting we legally marry each other."
"For the bit."
"For the bit," Jason repeated flatly.
"Exactly!" Tim pointed at him triumphantly. "See? You get it."
"I don't."
"It'd be hilarious."
"It'd be a nightmare."
Tim waved a dismissive hand. "Details."
Jason took a slow sip of his drink, watching Tim with the resigned expression of someone who had known this idiot for far too long.
"You know marriage is legally binding, right?"
"So's adoption."
"...What?"
"I don't know," Tim admitted with a shrug. "I'm drunk."
"That is the first intelligent thing you've said in the last five minutes."
Tim gasped dramatically, clutching at his chest as though wounded. "You're supposed to support my bad ideas."
"I support your right to have them."
"And?"
"I also support my right to tell you they're stupid."
Tim pouted for exactly three seconds before breaking into another grin.
"So... that's not a no."
Jason sighed into his drink.
Somehow, against all odds, he had the distinct feeling this conversation wasn't over.
—
Jason had been right.
The conversation hadn't ended.
If anything, it had only gained momentum.
Tim had spent the next half hour—and two more drinks—making increasingly elaborate arguments for why getting married was a fantastic idea. Apparently it would be "the funniest prank in Gotham history," would "knock Bruce down at least three pegs," and, for reasons Tim never fully explained, would somehow save them money.
Jason had pointed out that none of those were actual reasons to enter a legally binding marriage.
Tim had countered that Jason had already admitted Bruce's reaction would be worth it.
Jason had, unfortunately, laughed.
Somewhere between the laughter, the alcohol, and Tim's relentless determination, Jason had stopped arguing.
He couldn't remember agreeing.
He also couldn't remember saying no.
Jason woke with a pounding headache and the distinct feeling that he had made several questionable life choices.
The room around him was unfamiliar—some anonymous Vegas hotel with beige walls, heavy curtains, and carpet loud enough to qualify as a crime. His mouth tasted like cheap whiskey and regret.
"...Fuck."
He rubbed a hand over his face.
Something cold scraped against his cheek.
Jason frowned.
He looked down.
A silver band circled his left ring finger.
For several long seconds he simply stared at it.
"...No."
The word came out barely above a whisper.
"No, no, no..."
The memories came back in disconnected flashes.
A chapel.
Bright lights.
Someone dressed as Elvis.
Tim laughing so hard he nearly tripped over the aisle runner.
"...Fuck."
Jason whipped around toward the other side of the bed where Tim was still face-down in a pillow, completely unconscious.
He grabbed the nearest pillow and smacked him across the head.
"Tim."
No response.
He hit him again.
"Tim, wake up. Your dumb drunk ass caused chaos."
Tim groaned, burying his face deeper into the mattress.
"M' sleepin'..."
Jason wasn't in the mood.
He shoved him.
Hard.
Tim rolled onto his back with all the grace of a corpse being pushed downhill, blinking owlishly at the ceiling.
"...Jay?"
"What are you talking about?" Tim mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
Jason answered by grabbing Tim's left hand.
Tim made a confused noise but didn't resist as Jason held their hands side by side.
Two matching silver wedding bands.
Tim stared.
Jason stared.
Neither of them spoke.
Then—
"Oh my God!"
Tim sat bolt upright so fast he nearly headbutted Jason.
"How did this happen?"
Jason deadpanned.
"I don't know, maybe because it was your idea."
"...My idea?"
"You spent thirty straight minutes trying to convince me to marry you."
Tim frowned in concentration.
"...That... sounds like something I'd do."
"It absolutely is."
"I actually convinced you?"
Jason sighed.
"Apparently."
Tim looked between the rings several more times, as though they might disappear if he blinked enough.
"...We're actually married."
"We're actually married."
"...Legally?"
"I really hope not."
There was a beat.
"...Actually," Jason amended, "I really hope so."
Tim looked over, confused.
Jason lifted his own hand, turning the ring so it caught the morning sunlight filtering through the curtains.
It wasn't some plastic novelty ring from a tourist shop.
It was solid silver, heavy enough to feel real. Set into the metal was a small ruby that gleamed a deep crimson whenever it caught the light.
He reached over without thinking and inspected Tim's.
Identical.
Whoever had sold them—or married them—hadn't cheaped out.
"Huh."
"What?"
"They're... nice."
Tim blinked.
Jason wasn't sure why he'd said it out loud.
The ring sat comfortably against his finger. It wasn't uncomfortable. It wasn't irritating.
If anything...
It fit.
Perfectly.
A strange thought settled somewhere in the back of his mind.
He should have been panicking.
Should have been trying to figure out how quickly they could get the marriage annulled.
Should have been furious.
Instead...
He mostly felt embarrassed.
And, annoyingly, a little amused.
Because of all the people in the world he could have accidentally married...
Tim wasn't exactly a bad option.
He was smart. Loyal to a fault. Annoying, sure, but in a way Jason had gotten used to years ago. Tim understood him in ways most people never would, and despite all the bickering, Jason trusted him with his life without hesitation.
The realization landed with surprising ease.
If he'd accidentally married anyone...
He was kind of glad it had been Tim.
Jason frowned at the thought.
"...Huh."
"What?" Tim asked.
Jason looked away.
"Nothing."
Tim narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"...You don't seem nearly as upset as I expected."
"I'm hungover."
"Jason."
"I'm serious."
"Jason."
Jason sighed dramatically.
"I just..." He glanced at the ring again before shrugging one shoulder. "It could've been worse."
Tim barked out a laugh.
"Worse?"
"Could've been Roy."
Tim snorted so hard he nearly fell off the bed.
Jason found himself laughing too.
The panic never really came back.
Which, in hindsight, was probably far more concerning than waking up married in the first place.
–
Once they were back in Gotham, the real challenge began.
Staying married had been one thing.
Pretending they weren't was another entirely.
Neither of them brought it up during the flight home. Between the lingering hangovers and the realization that yes, the marriage license was, in fact, completely legal, they had more or less settled into stunned acceptance.
The first thing Tim had done after landing was look up Nevada marriage laws.
The second thing had been quietly informing Jason that getting an annulment wasn't nearly as simple as either of them had hoped.
"So..." Tim had said, closing his laptop with a grimace. "We're actually married."
Jason had shrugged.
"Seems that way."
"...We should probably decide what we're doing."
That conversation stretched over the next few days.
They talked about annulments.
Divorce.
Keeping it a secret.
Telling Bruce.
Absolutely not telling Bruce.
Every option somehow led back to the same conclusion.
Neither of them was in any particular hurry to end it.
Not because they thought it was romantic.
Not because they were secretly pining after each other.
Mostly because...
It was funny.
Bruce would have an aneurysm.
Dick would spend three weeks trying to organize a reception that had technically happened months ago.
Damian would probably challenge one of them to a duel over the sheer stupidity of the situation.
The image alone was worth delaying the paperwork.
Which was why they agreed on one simple rule.
They wouldn't lie if someone asked.
They just...weren't going to volunteer the information.
If the family figured it out on their own?
Fair game.
If they didn't...
Well.
That wasn't Jason and Tim's fault.
A week passed.
Then two.
Not a single person noticed.
Jason was almost offended.
"So much for the World's Greatest Detectives," he muttered one evening.
Tim snorted.
"They're not looking for evidence that two of their kids accidentally got married in Vegas."
"They should be."
"They really shouldn't."
Jason leaned back in his chair, considering that.
"...You're right."
There was a long silence.
Then an idea occurred to him.
A terrible, wonderful idea.
A slow grin spread across his face.
Tim noticed immediately.
"...No."
Jason hadn't even spoken.
"You've got that look."
"What look?"
"The 'I'm about to ruin someone's month' look."
Jason's grin only widened.
"What if..."
Tim sighed.
"I already hate this."
"...we move in together."
Tim blinked.
"...What?"
Jason spread his hands as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Think about it."
"I don't know if I want to."
"We're married."
"I am unfortunately aware."
"So married people usually live together."
Tim stared at him.
Jason continued with perfect seriousness.
"If we're committing to the bit, we should commit."
A beat passed.
Then another.
Tim's eyes slowly widened.
"Oh my God."
Jason pointed at him.
"Right?"
"Oh my God."
A smile broke across Tim's face.
"I bet Cass notices first."
Jason laughed.
"Well, obviously."
"Cass notices everything."
"Exactly." Jason leaned forward conspiratorially. "But she won't tell anyone."
Tim nodded immediately.
"She'll absolutely just watch."
"She'll think it's funny."
"She'll think it's hilarious."
They looked at each other for a moment.
Then, in perfect unison—
"Let's do it."
—
Explaining why Jason suddenly wanted to move into the Nest turned out to be surprisingly easy.
He claimed his apartment building needed plumbing work.
Tim claimed it made patrol logistics easier.
Dick thought it was a wonderful opportunity for "brotherly bonding."
Bruce barely looked up from the Batcomputer before giving an absent, "If that's what you both want."
Jason couldn't decide whether to be relieved or insulted.
So that was that.
A week later, Jason carried the last box into the Nest, dropping it beside the couch with a satisfied sigh.
Tim emerged from the kitchen carrying two mugs of coffee.
"Officially moved in?"
Jason looked around the apartment.
It was unmistakably Tim's—organized bookshelves, neatly stacked files, enough computer equipment to rival the Batcave—but there was already evidence of Jason scattered throughout.
His leather jacket hung over the back of a chair.
A motorcycle helmet sat by the front door.
A stack of novels had appeared on the coffee table.
It didn't feel like he was staying over.
It felt...
Comfortable.
"Yeah," Jason said.
Tim handed him one of the mugs.
"Guess this makes us real newlyweds."
Jason groaned.
"If you ever call us that in public, I'm filing for divorce."
Tim laughed into his coffee.
"You mean annulment."
Jason took a sip before smirking.
"Nah."
Tim looked at him.
Jason shrugged.
"Divorce sounds funnier."
Tim rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.
Neither of them noticed the matching silver bands glinting on their hands as they stood side by side in the kitchen.
Someone else eventually would.
It was only a matter of time.
—
It took Cassandra exactly three seconds.
Jason had barely stepped into the Manor behind Tim before Cass appeared at the top of the staircase. She froze.
Her eyes flicked from Tim.
To Jason.
To their hands.
To the matching silver bands neither of them had bothered taking off.
Jason watched the realization settle across her face.
"...Well," he muttered. "That was fast."
Tim sighed. "Told you."
Cass didn't say a word.
She crossed the room in a few quick steps and wrapped Tim in a fierce hug.
Tim let out a surprised laugh, hugging her back automatically.
"Uh... hi, Cass."
She held him for another second before pulling away. Then she turned toward Jason.
There wasn't even a hint of surprise on her face anymore.
Just calm certainty.
She looked him directly in the eye.
"If you hurt him," she said simply, "I hurt you."
There was no anger in her voice.
No dramatics.
She stated it with the same certainty she'd use to say the sky was blue.
Jason couldn't help smiling.
"Fair."
Tim looked between them. "That's it?"
Jason shrugged.
"I've had scarier conversations."
Cass continued staring at him.
Jason lifted both hands in surrender.
"I won't."
She searched his face for another long moment.
Apparently satisfied, she nodded once.
"I know."
Then, just like that, the moment was over.
She smiled—a small, genuine thing—and reached over to squeeze both of their hands at the same time.
"Congratulations."
Tim's ears immediately turned pink.
Jason, somehow, found himself smiling wider.
"Thanks."
Cass squeezed their hands one last time before wandering off in search of Alfred, leaving the two of them standing in the foyer.
Tim watched her disappear.
"...That went better than expected."
Jason snorted.
"She threatened to kill me."
"Yeah."
"...Which is basically Cass saying she approves."
"I think so too."
—
That evening, after patrol, Jason found himself standing in the Nest's kitchen with an apron tied around his waist.
Tim wandered in, dropping his keys into the bowl by the door.
"It smells amazing."
Jason didn't look up from the pan he was stirring.
"I know."
"So humble."
"I've earned it."
Tim laughed quietly and leaned against the counter, watching Jason work.
There was something oddly peaceful about it.
Jason moved through the kitchen with practiced confidence, chopping vegetables while a pot simmered on the stove. Music drifted softly from a speaker somewhere in the apartment—not loud enough to interrupt conversation, just enough to fill the silence between them.
Tim set the table without being asked.
Two plates.
Two glasses.
Two sets of silverware.
It happened so naturally neither of them commented on it.
A few minutes later Jason carried the food over.
"Dinner's served."
Tim looked down at his plate.
"This looks way better than takeout."
"It is."
"I wasn't insulting your cooking."
"I know."
They settled into their chairs, the comfortable quiet between them feeling effortless rather than awkward.
Conversation came easily.
Tim complained about one of Wayne Enterprises' newest software updates.
Jason countered with a story about Roy accidentally setting off every alarm in his safehouse because he'd forgotten the security code.
Tim laughed so hard he nearly dropped his fork.
Jason considered that a victory.
From there they bounced from topic to topic.
Books Tim had been reading.
A movie Jason insisted Tim needed to watch.
Whether Alfred's chocolate chip cookies or his shortbread biscuits were superior.
(They agreed both were impossible to beat.)
Neither of them mentioned patrol.
Neither of them mentioned Bruce.
Neither of them mentioned the increasingly ridiculous secret they were keeping from the rest of the family.
For one evening, they were simply Jason and Tim, sharing a homemade meal in the apartment they now called home.
Jason found himself watching Tim animatedly explain some obscure piece of computer history, hands moving as fast as his words.
He smiled before he could stop himself.
Tim caught it.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You smiled."
"I did not."
"You absolutely did."
Jason rolled his eyes.
"I was smiling because you're a nerd."
"There it is."
"What?"
"The emotional repression."
Jason pointed his fork at him.
"Keep talking and I'll make you do the dishes."
Tim grinned.
"Worth it."
Jason huffed an amused laugh, shaking his head.
It was ridiculous.
The fake marriage.
The secret.
The fact that they were somehow committed enough to the joke that Jason had moved into Tim's apartment.
It should have felt temporary.
Like they were only waiting for the punchline.
Instead, sitting across from Tim in the warm kitchen, listening to easy conversation and eating a meal he'd cooked for the two of them, Jason had the unsettling realization that this was becoming normal.
And, if he was being honest with himself...
He liked normal.
He liked coming home to someone.
He liked cooking for Tim.
He liked evenings where the only thing they argued about was whose turn it was to wash the dishes.
He wasn't ready to examine what that meant.
So he didn't.
Instead, he stood, gathered the empty plates, and carried them toward the sink.
Behind him, Tim smiled to himself.
"I'll do the dishes."
Jason looked over his shoulder.
"You sure?"
Tim nodded.
"You cooked."
Jason smiled again.
This time, he didn't bother pretending he hadn't.
–
The first week felt like they were playing house.
The second felt like an experiment.
By the end of the first month, neither of them was really thinking about it anymore.
Three months slipped by almost without either of them noticing.
Somewhere along the way, they fell into a routine.
Jason did most of the cooking.
Not because Tim couldn’t cook—he technically could—but because Tim had a tendency to get distracted halfway through making dinner. More than once Jason had walked into the kitchen to find a pan heating on the stove while Tim had wandered off to answer an email that had somehow turned into debugging a Wayne Enterprises server.
It was easier if Jason just handled it.
Besides, he liked cooking.
There was something satisfying about chopping vegetables, stirring a pot on the stove, tasting a sauce until it was just right. It was one of the few things that quieted his mind.
Tim never complained.
He’d simply wander into the kitchen after work or patrol, drawn by the smell of dinner, perch on one of the counter stools, and keep Jason company while he cooked.
Sometimes they talked.
Sometimes they didn’t.
Neither silence nor conversation ever felt forced.
In return, Tim always handled the dishes.
Jason tried to help exactly once.
Tim had looked at him over the top of the sink and said, “You cooked.”
“So?”
“So I clean.”
Jason had rolled his eyes.
“You know marriage isn’t supposed to be transactional.”
Tim hadn’t even looked up.
“It isn’t.”
“You literally just assigned chores.”
“It’s division of labor.”
Jason had laughed and surrendered the sponge.
“Fine.”
It worked.
Everything seemed to.
Jason discovered Tim had an alarming habit of leaving half-empty coffee mugs and abandoned energy drink cans scattered across every available surface in the apartment.
The coffee table.
The desk.
The bookshelf.
The bathroom counter.
Once, inexplicably, on top of the refrigerator.
Jason never asked.
He simply started collecting them.
At first he grumbled the entire time.
“You know trash cans exist.”
“I’m conducting science.”
“The science of making me clean up after you?”
“Exactly.”
Jason would mutter something about impossible rich kids while carrying another armful of mugs to the sink.
Eventually, though, it became automatic.
He’d pass the desk, pick up an empty cup, and keep walking without a second thought.
Tim noticed.
“You don’t have to keep doing that.”
Jason shrugged.
“You’ll forget.”
“…Probably.”
“You absolutely will.”
Tim smiled sheepishly.
“Yeah.”
Jason just snorted.
Someone had to keep the apartment from becoming a biohazard.
Likewise, someone had to make sure Tim actually slept.
That turned out to be considerably more difficult.
Jason would emerge from his room at one in the morning for a glass of water and find the office light still on.
Tim would be hunched over three monitors, glasses slipping down his nose, typing furiously while surrounded by enough caffeine to stop a horse’s heart.
“Bed.”
“I’m almost done.”
“Liar.”
“Five more minutes.”
Jason had learned quickly that “five more minutes” translated to at least another hour.
So he’d simply walk over.
Reach behind Tim.
And shut the monitors off.
“Jason!”
“Bed.”
“I was working.”
“You’ve been working since dinner.”
“I have deadlines.”
“You have eyebags.”
Tim would sigh dramatically.
“You’re mean.”
“I’m keeping you alive.”
“…Fair.”
Without fail, Tim would eventually give in, rubbing tired eyes as he shuffled toward his bedroom.
Sometimes Jason would hear a quiet, “Night, Jay.”
He always answered.
“Night.”
It became so routine that neither of them questioned it anymore.
The care went both ways.
Jason wasn’t exactly known for processing his emotions in healthy ways.
Especially when Bruce was involved.
Every few weeks something would happen.
Bruce would criticize him for carrying guns.
Or question one of his decisions in the field.
Or lecture him about excessive force as though Jason hadn’t spent years trying to find a balance that let him sleep at night.
Jason would come home simmering.
Sometimes he’d pace the apartment.
Sometimes he’d slam cupboards a little harder than necessary while making coffee.
Sometimes he’d simply sit on the couch, jaw clenched so tightly Tim worried he might crack a tooth.
Tim never pushed.
He’d sit down nearby.
Wait.
Eventually Jason would start talking.
Usually by complaining.
Then venting.
Then ranting.
Tim listened through all of it.
He never interrupted unless Jason stopped to breathe.
He didn’t try to tell Jason Bruce was right.
He didn’t automatically agree that Bruce was wrong, either.
Instead, he’d quietly ask questions.
“What actually bothered you?”
“Was it what he said or how he said it?”
“Do you think he’d have reacted differently if it had been Dick?”
Sometimes the questions annoyed Jason.
Usually because they made him think.
Eventually the anger would bleed out of him, replaced by exhausted frustration.
Tim would hand him a mug of coffee or tea, depending on the hour.
“You done?”
Jason would lean back against the couch.
“…Yeah.”
“You feel better?”
“…A little.”
“Good.”
That was all.
No grand speeches.
No dramatic breakthroughs.
Just someone sitting beside him until the storm passed.
It was…easy.
Comfortable.
Enjoyable.
Jason had spent most of his life convinced that relationships—familial, romantic, platonic, all of them—had to be hard work. That caring about someone meant constant conflict, compromise, and eventually disappointment.
Living with Tim challenged that assumption every single day.
There were disagreements, of course.
Tim still left cups everywhere.
Jason still monopolized the blankets.
Tim stayed up too late.
Jason forgot to buy groceries because he’d gotten distracted fixing his motorcycle.
They bickered.
They teased each other relentlessly.
But none of it felt heavy.
Nothing lingered.
Arguments ended with eye rolls instead of slammed doors.
Frustrations became inside jokes.
Days blurred comfortably into weeks.
Before Jason realized it, he had stopped thinking of the Nest as Tim’s apartment.
It was just…
Home.
The thought should have unsettled him.
Instead, it settled somewhere deep in his chest with surprising warmth.
He never said it aloud.
He wasn’t ready for that.
But sometimes, after locking the door behind him at the end of patrol and hearing Tim call, “You’re late,” from somewhere deeper in the apartment, Jason would smile to himself before answering.
“I’m home.”
—
It took just over three months.
Jason had honestly expected Bruce to notice first.
Or Barbara.
Or Alfred.
Dick, despite being the self-proclaimed “heart of the family,” had somehow managed to miss every clue they’d accidentally left behind.
Until one afternoon.
They’d just finished a training session in the Cave. Jason had peeled off his gloves while grabbing a bottle of water, forgetting—just for a second—that he still wore the silver wedding band.
Dick saw it immediately.
He stopped mid-sentence.
His eyes dropped to Jason’s left hand.
Then snapped back up.
Then back to the ring.
“…Jason.”
Jason looked up from unscrewing his water bottle.
“What?”
Dick pointed dramatically.
“What.”
Jason glanced at his hand.
“Oh.”
“…Oh?” Dick repeated. “‘Oh?’”
Jason shrugged, taking a drink.
“Yeah.”
Dick stared at him in disbelief.
“Dude.”
“What?”
“Dude!”
“What?”
“You got married?!”
Jason winced slightly at Dick’s volume.
“I guess.”
“You guess?” Dick threw both hands into the air. “Jason! That’s not an ‘I guess’ situation!”
Jason couldn’t help grinning.
“It kind of is.”
Dick looked personally offended.
“When?”
“A few months ago.”
“A few months—”
Dick stopped speaking entirely, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times as his brain struggled to process that sentence.
“A few months ago?” he finally managed.
“Mhm.”
“And…you didn’t tell anyone?”
“Nope.”
Dick looked like he might actually collapse.
“You’ve been married for months and you just…forgot to mention it?”
“I didn’t forget.”
“You deliberately didn’t tell us?”
Jason smirked.
“Yep.”
Dick pressed a hand to his chest.
“I think you’ve actually wounded me.”
“You’ll survive.”
“I don’t know if I will.”
Jason snorted.
Dick recovered with remarkable speed.
His expression transformed from betrayed to impossibly excited in less than a second.
“Oh my God.”
Jason recognized that look.
“…Don’t.”
“When do we get to meet them?”
“No.”
“When are you bringing them to family dinner?”
“No.”
“Wedding pictures?”
“No.”
“Honeymoon?”
Jason pointed a warning finger at him.
“Absolutely not.”
Dick ignored him completely.
“Come on! You can’t just casually reveal you’ve been secretly married for months and not introduce your spouse!”
Jason took another sip of water, doing an admirable job of pretending this wasn’t the funniest conversation he’d had all week.
“You’ve already met him.”
Dick blinked.
“…Him?”
“Mhm.”
Dick immediately began mentally cycling through every man Jason associated with.
“…Roy?”
Jason barked out a laugh.
“Fuck no.”
Dick looked relieved.
“…Okay, honestly? That’s good.”
Jason raised an eyebrow.
“You’ve got enough shared brain cells for one relationship.”
“Exactly.”
Dick resumed thinking.
“Okay…then Eddie?”
“No.”
“Artemis introduced you to somebody?”
“No.”
“One of the Outlaws?”
“No.”
Dick frowned harder.
“Someone from the League?”
Jason looked horrified.
“Jesus, Dick, have some standards.”
Dick kept going.
“Somebody from Crime Alley?”
“No.”
“A cop?”
Jason made a face.
“You’re getting colder.”
Dick narrowed his eyes.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.”
“A little?”
Jason’s grin widened.
“A lot.”
Dick folded his arms.
“I’ll figure it out.”
“I’m counting on it.”
“You realize I know you.”
Jason nodded.
“I do.”
“I know everyone you spend time with.”
“Probably.”
“So eventually I’ll narrow it down.”
Jason shrugged.
“Maybe.”
Dick pointed accusingly.
“And when I figure it out, you’re explaining everything.”
Jason laughed.
“Sure.”
“What was that chapel like?”
“No comment.”
“Who proposed?”
Jason smiled innocently.
“I honestly don’t remember.”
Dick groaned.
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
“…No,” Dick admitted with a sigh. “But I do hate mysteries.”
Jason clapped him on the shoulder as he walked past.
“Good luck, Detective.”
Behind him, Dick stared at the ring again, then at Jason disappearing toward the Batmobile.
“…I’m going to solve this.”
From the computer terminal nearby, Tim—who had listened to the entire exchange while pretending to work—very carefully kept his eyes on the screen.
Barbara glanced between Dick, Jason’s retreating figure, and Tim’s left hand resting casually on the keyboard.
The matching silver band gleamed under the Cave’s lights.
Barbara’s eyebrows lifted almost imperceptibly.
She looked at Tim.
Tim looked back.
Very slowly, without moving anything else, Tim pulled his hand into his lap.
Barbara bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
She wasn’t going to spoil the game.
Not yet.
—
“I thought we weren’t going to lie when asked about our marriage.”
Tim’s voice followed Jason into the kitchen as he set a grocery bag on the counter.
Jason glanced over his shoulder.
Tim was leaning against the doorway, still in the clothes he’d worn to the Cave, arms folded loosely across his chest. There wasn’t any accusation in his tone.
Just curiosity.
Jason unpacked a carton of eggs before answering.
“Nothing I said was a lie, Tim.”
Tim frowned.
“You deliberately dodged the question.”
“I answered every question Dick actually asked.”
“You also let him spend twenty minutes trying to figure out if you married Roy.”
Jason laughed, setting vegetables on the cutting board.
“That part was entertaining.”
“It was a little mean.”
“It was hilarious.”
Tim rolled his eyes, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward.
“I thought the whole point was that if someone asked, we’d tell them.”
Jason reached for a knife, taking a little longer than necessary before he answered.
“I know.”
“So…?”
The knife began a steady rhythm against the cutting board.
“I…” Jason hesitated.
He didn’t actually know how to explain it.
He could have ended the joke.
Dick had handed him the perfect opportunity.
One sentence.
I’m married to Tim.
That would have been it.
The secret would have been over.
Instead…
He’d danced around it.
Not because he’d wanted to lie.
Because he hadn’t wanted the game to end.
“I wasn’t ready,” he admitted quietly.
Tim was silent.
Jason kept his eyes on the vegetables.
“I like this.”
“The prank?”
Jason almost answered yes.
Instead, he found himself saying something entirely different.
“…Us.”
The word slipped out before he could stop it.
The kitchen fell quiet.
Jason closed his eyes for half a second.
Great.
Tim didn’t say anything.
Jason forced himself to continue.
“I like coming home here.”
He gestured vaguely around the apartment.
“I like eating dinner with someone instead of grabbing takeout by myself.”
He scraped the chopped vegetables into a bowl.
“I like that somebody actually notices when I’m in a bad mood.”
He reached automatically for a pan.
“I like that someone reminds me to sleep.”
Tim couldn’t help smiling.
“I remind you to sleep?”
Jason snorted.
“Okay, maybe not that one.”
“No.”
“But you do make sure I don’t spend three days pissed off because Bruce said something stupid.”
Tim nodded once.
“I try.”
“I know.”
Jason poured oil into the pan, watching it spread across the metal.
“I just…”
He struggled for the words.
“This feels…”
He frowned.
“…Easy.”
Tim understood immediately.
“Yeah.”
“I’ve never really had…” Jason sighed. “Whatever this is.”
He wasn’t talking about marriage anymore.
Not really.
He meant the evenings cooking together.
The comfortable silence.
The shared routines.
The fact that he’d stopped thinking about whose apartment it had originally been.
Somehow, over the last three months, it had become theirs.
Jason hadn’t noticed exactly when it happened.
Only that it had.
Tim stepped into the kitchen, resting his hip against the counter.
“I’ve liked it too.”
Jason smiled faintly.
“I figured.”
“I wasn’t in a rush to end it either.”
Jason looked over.
Tim shrugged.
“It stopped feeling like pretending a while ago.”
Jason’s chest tightened unexpectedly.
Not because of the words.
Because he agreed.
After dinner, Tim did the dishes while Jason wiped down the counters.
It happened automatically.
Neither of them discussed whose turn it was.
They didn’t have to.
Jason collected the empty coffee mug Tim had abandoned beside his laptop and rinsed it out before placing it in the dishwasher.
Without thinking, he grabbed two cans of Tim’s favorite energy drink from the refrigerator and set one beside the computer for tomorrow morning.
Tim noticed.
“You remembered.”
“You’ll forget.”
“I probably would.”
“I know.”
Tim smiled.
That smile.
Jason had seen it a thousand times by now.
When Tim solved a case everyone else had given up on.
When Alfred made pancakes.
When Cass won at chess.
When Jason laughed at one of his terrible jokes instead of pretending it wasn’t funny.
It always reached Tim’s eyes first.
Bright.
Warm.
Completely genuine.
Jason had never really paid attention to it before.
Now he found himself looking for it.
The realization stopped him cold.
Not because it appeared suddenly.
Because it explained everything.
Why he didn’t want to tell Dick.
Why he hadn’t wanted the marriage annulled.
Why coming home every night had become the best part of his day.
Why he’d started buying Tim’s favorite coffee without asking.
Why hearing Tim laugh from the next room made the apartment feel alive.
It wasn’t the routine.
The routine was just where it had become impossible to ignore.
Somewhere between making dinner every night…
…cleaning up abandoned coffee mugs…
…talking Jason through another argument with Bruce…
…and quietly reminding Tim that, yes, it was two in the morning and he really did need to go to bed…
Jason had fallen in love with him.
There hadn’t been one defining moment.
No dramatic confession.
No first kiss.
Just hundreds of tiny moments that, stitched together, had become something bigger than either of them had noticed.
Jason rested his hands on the counter and let out a slow breath.
“…Shit.”
“What?” Tim called from the sink.
Jason looked over at him.
Tim was smiling at something on his phone while absentmindedly drying a plate, completely unaware that Jason’s entire world had just shifted.
Jason smiled to himself.
“Nothing.”
For now…
Nothing.
He wasn’t ready to say it out loud.
But for the first time in a long time, Jason was certain of something.
He didn’t want this marriage to end.
Not because it was a joke.
Because somewhere along the way, without either of them realizing it, it had become real.
—
Later that evening, they ended up exactly where they usually did after dinner.
Jason sprawled across one end of the couch with a book open in his lap.
Tim occupied the opposite corner, laptop balanced on his knees, absentmindedly scrolling through something for work.
The television played quietly in the background.
Neither of them was really watching it.
After a few minutes, Tim broke the comfortable silence.
“Barbara knows.”
Jason looked up from his book.
“Oh?”
“I caught her looking at my ring after Dick started interrogating you.” Tim smiled to himself. “She cornered me while you were getting the Batmobile.”
“And?”
Tim laughed softly.
“She didn’t say anything.”
Jason raised an eyebrow.
“Nothing?”
“She just smiled.”
Jason snorted.
“Yeah.”
“What?”
“Anything that lets her get one over on Dick?” Jason shook his head. “Barbara will absolutely protect the secret just to watch him keep trying to solve it.”
Tim smiled.
“That’s what I figured.”
Silence settled over them again.
Comfortable.
Easy.
Jason turned another page.
Tim closed his laptop.
“I think…” he began carefully, “…I think we should tell Alfred.”
Jason looked over immediately.
Tim wasn’t looking at him.
He was staring at his hands.
At the silver band circling his finger.
Jason’s own hand unconsciously mirrored the gesture, thumb brushing against the matching ring on his left hand.
“He deserves to know,” Tim continued quietly.
“I know.”
“And…I think he’d be happy for us.”
Jason laughed once.
“He’d congratulate us.”
“He would.”
“He’d pretend this was all perfectly normal.”
Tim smiled.
“He absolutely would.”
Jason sighed, leaning back into the couch.
“He’s also going to want to throw us an actual wedding.”
Tim grimaced.
“…Yeah.”
“The full thing.”
“Mhm.”
“Flowers.”
“Mhm.”
“Formal invitations.”
“Mhm.”
Jason looked at him.
“We’d never survive it.”
Tim laughed.
“No.”
The laughter faded.
Tim’s expression shifted.
It was subtle.
Jason recognized it anyway.
The slight furrow between his eyebrows.
The distant look in his eyes.
The one he always got when he was piecing together a puzzle.
“What?” Jason asked.
“So…”
Tim hesitated.
“I’ve been thinking.”
“That’s usually dangerous.”
“I mean it.”
Jason’s smile faded.
Tim looked uncomfortable.
“Something doesn’t make sense.”
Jason waited.
“Our marriage.”
Jason’s stomach tightened.
“What about it?”
Tim rubbed the back of his neck.
“It…might not actually be legally binding.”
Jason blinked.
“What?”
“I don’t think it can be.”
Jason frowned.
“Why?”
Tim answered gently, like he was trying not to startle a frightened animal.
“…Because you don’t legally exist.”
The words hung in the air.
“You don’t have a birth certificate.”
Jason went completely still.
“Your original identity was declared dead.”
Tim continued, unaware.
“As far as the government is concerned…”
Jason wasn’t listening anymore.
“…Jason Todd died.”
Something inside his chest clenched.
Hard.
The room suddenly felt too small.
Too warm.
The sound of the television faded into static.
His heartbeat was suddenly all he could hear.
Dead.
Legally dead.
Not real.
The marriage isn’t real.
His breathing caught.
He tried to inhale.
Nothing happened.
The air wouldn’t come.
His vision blurred around the edges.
“Jason?”
Tim’s voice sounded impossibly far away.
Jason stared at the floor.
He couldn’t move.
Couldn’t breathe.
The familiar pressure wrapped around his ribs like steel bands.
Not now.
Please.
Not now.
“Jason.”
Tim was beside him.
Jason hadn’t even seen him move.
“Oh, God.”
Tim’s voice cracked.
“I’m sorry.”
Jason still couldn’t answer.
“I didn’t mean—”
His lungs burned.
“Jason, look at me.”
He couldn’t.
He couldn’t do anything except stare at the carpet while his hands shook uncontrollably.
Tim crouched directly in front of him.
“Oh God, I’m sorry,” he repeated, panic creeping into every word. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Jason’s chest hitched.
Still no air.
“Jason.”
Tim reached out slowly.
Not grabbing.
Just resting one hand gently over Jason’s clenched fist.
“What can I do?”
Jason squeezed his eyes shut.
“I…”
The word dissolved into another failed breath.
Tim’s own breathing slowed deliberately.
“Okay.”
His voice became softer.
Steadier.
“You don’t have to talk.”
Jason could hear the fear underneath it anyway.
“Just stay with me.”
Tim shifted closer, still careful not to crowd him.
“Can you hear me?”
Jason managed the smallest nod.
“Good.”
Tim matched his own breathing to slow, measured inhales.
“Breathe with me.”
Jason tried.
Nothing.
His chest refused.
“I’m here.”
Another shaky breath.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Tim’s thumb brushed lightly across the back of Jason’s hand.
“I’m so sorry.”
Jason finally managed to drag in a ragged breath that felt like it scraped his lungs raw.
Another followed.
Then another.
Painfully slow.
Tim stayed exactly where he was.
No questions.
No explanations.
Just a steady presence.
Eventually Jason’s breathing evened out enough that he could focus again.
The apartment slowly came back into view.
The couch.
The coffee table.
Tim kneeling in front of him, looking like he’d never been so terrified in his life.
Jason swallowed hard.
“It wasn’t…”
His voice came out hoarse.
“…your fault.”
Tim shook his head immediately.
“I shouldn’t have said it like that.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I should have.”
Jason looked down at the ring on his finger.
The silver caught the warm light from the lamp.
For three months he’d quietly let himself believe in this ridiculous accident.
Believe that somehow, against all odds, he’d stumbled into something real.
Tim’s words hadn’t hurt because they reminded him he was legally dead.
Jason had lived with that fact for years.
They hurt because, for one awful moment, he’d thought the life they’d built together might not count.
That the marriage he’d slowly stopped pretending was a joke…
…might never have existed at all.
Tim followed his gaze to the ring.
His expression softened with sudden understanding.
“Oh.”
Jason looked up.
Tim’s eyes widened.
“You thought…”
He stopped himself.
Then, very gently, he took Jason’s left hand in both of his.
“I don’t care what Nevada says.”
Jason blinked.
“I don’t care what Gotham says.”
Tim’s thumb brushed over the silver band.
“And I definitely don’t care what some government database says.”
He met Jason’s eyes.
“This is real to me.”
Jason felt something in his chest loosen.
“I don’t know if we’re legally married,” Tim said quietly. “Maybe we are. Maybe we aren’t.”
He gave Jason’s hand a gentle squeeze.
“But these last three months?”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“They’ve been real.”
Jason looked at him for a long time.
Then, without thinking, he laced their fingers together.
Tim smiled.
Neither of them let go.
—
Tim kept hold of Jason’s hand, his thumb absently tracing circles over his knuckles until Jason’s breathing had settled into something normal again.
The silence between them wasn’t awkward.
Just thoughtful.
Eventually, Tim spoke.
“That being said…”
Jason looked up.
“I think it’s time we talk about raising Jason Todd from the dead.”
Jason let out a short, humorless laugh.
“If we do that…” His breath hitched slightly before he forced the rest of the sentence out. “I’m legally Bruce’s son again.”
Tim nodded.
“Yeah.”
Jason stared at their joined hands.
“I don’t know if I want that.”
“I know.”
“I spent years trying to get away from him.”
“I know.”
“And now I’d have to willingly sign paperwork putting myself back under the Wayne name.”
Tim squeezed his hand gently.
“You wouldn’t be doing it for Bruce.”
Jason looked at him.
“You’d be doing it for yourself.”
Jason frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“You deserve to exist.”
The words were simple.
Matter-of-fact.
Not dramatic.
“You deserve a birth certificate.”
“You deserve identification that actually belongs to you.”
“You deserve a driver’s license that isn’t forged.”
A tiny smile tugged at Tim’s lips.
“And I’d really like it if my husband existed on paper.”
Jason felt his ears warm despite himself.
“…Husband?”
Tim smiled a little wider.
“I’ve been calling you that in my head for weeks.”
Jason laughed quietly, shaking his head.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I know.”
Tim’s expression softened again.
“And…” he continued, almost sheepishly, “I wouldn’t actually mind marrying into the family.”
Jason blinked.
“…What?”
“I mean, think about it.”
That look returned.
The one Tim always got when he’d found the perfect solution to a problem.
Only this time, it wasn’t directed at a case.
It was directed at Jason.
“If we legally resurrect Jason Todd…”
Jason groaned.
“I know I’m going to regret asking this.”
“…then Bruce Wayne’s not-so-dead son is suddenly married to the CEO of Wayne Enterprises.”
Jason stared.
Tim’s grin spread slowly.
“Can you imagine the reporters?”
Jason could.
“Breaking News: Jason Todd, presumed dead for years, returns to Gotham.”
Followed immediately by—
“Also, surprise! He’s been secretly married to Tim Drake, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, for months.”
Every gossip magazine in the country would implode.
Lex Luthor would probably buy a newspaper just to read the headlines.
Dick would faint.
Bruce…
Bruce might actually bluescreen.
Jason tried very, very hard not to smile.
He failed spectacularly.
“Oh my God,” he muttered.
Tim looked entirely too pleased with himself.
“It’d be funny.”
“It’d be catastrophic.”
“It can be both.”
Jason barked out a laugh.
A real one.
The kind that bent him forward and left tears in the corners of his eyes.
Tim smiled, relief washing over his face as the last of Jason’s panic melted away.
“There he is,” Tim said softly.
Jason looked up.
“What?”
“I missed that laugh.”
Jason’s chest tightened again.
Not painfully this time.
Warmly.
He looked at Tim.
Really looked at him.
At the concern that still lingered around his eyes after the panic attack.
At the relief that Jason was laughing again.
At the unwavering certainty with which Tim had just said my husband.
Not as part of the joke.
Not for appearances.
Simply…
Because that’s how he thought of Jason now.
Jason’s heart did something embarrassingly soft.
He’d spent weeks trying not to examine his feelings.
Trying not to admit what had been slowly growing every time Tim reminded him to sleep.
Every time Tim listened without judgment.
Every dinner.
Every quiet evening.
Every cup of coffee Jason cleaned up without complaint.
He’d fallen in love so gradually he hadn’t even noticed until it was already too late.
And sitting here now…
Watching Tim smile at him like that…
Jason realized there wasn’t anything frightening about it anymore.
It just…
Made sense.
Before he could think himself out of it—
Before his brain could produce a single sarcastic comment—
Jason leaned forward.
Tim’s eyes widened.
“Jay—”
Jason closed the remaining distance.
The kiss was gentle.
Almost tentative.
More a question than a declaration.
Soft enough that Tim had every opportunity to pull away.
He didn’t.
For one suspended heartbeat, neither of them moved.
Then Tim kissed him back.
Just as carefully.
His free hand came up to rest lightly against Jason’s jaw, like he was afraid moving too quickly might break whatever this was.
Jason smiled into the kiss.
When they finally pulled apart, they stayed close enough that their foreheads brushed.
Neither of them spoke.
Neither of them seemed to know how.
It was Tim who broke first.
“…Does this mean…”
Jason laughed quietly.
“Yeah.”
Tim searched his face.
“…You’re sure?”
Jason thought about it.
About the last three months.
About dinners.
Late-night conversations.
Shared chores.
Coffee mugs.
Arguments with Bruce.
Being reminded to sleep, about reminding Tim to sleep.
Coming home.
About how none of it had ever felt like pretending.
He smiled.
“I think I stopped pretending a long time ago.”
Tim’s answering smile was brighter than Jason had ever seen it.
“So did I.”
Jason let out a breath that felt lighter than any he’d taken in years.
“Well.”
“Well?”
Jason intertwined their fingers again, the matching silver bands resting side by side.
“I guess we should figure out whether our accidental marriage became a real one…”
He grinned.
“…or if we’ve been dating our own spouse this entire time.”
Tim laughed so hard he nearly fell sideways on the couch.
“I cannot believe that’s a sentence.”
“It is now.”
“And honestly?”
Tim leaned in just enough for their shoulders to touch.
“I kind of love that it’s ours.”
Jason looked down at their joined hands.
Then back at Tim.
For the first time since waking up in that Vegas hotel room three months ago, he wasn’t grateful that he’d accidentally married Tim.
He was simply grateful…
…that it had been Tim all along.
—
When it was finally time for bed, neither of them was eager to end the evening.
They lingered on the couch for another half hour, talking about nothing in particular.
Whether Alfred would insist on baking a cake if they told him.
Whether Dick would ever forgive them for keeping the secret.
Whether Bruce would actually crash or simply stare into the middle distance for a concerning amount of time.
Eventually, Jason glanced at the clock.
“Come on.”
Tim looked up from where he’d somehow acquired his laptop again.
“What?”
Jason stood and walked over without another word.
Before Tim could protest, Jason hooked an arm under his knees and another around his back and lifted him clean off the couch.
“Jason!”
Tim yelped, clutching instinctively at Jason’s shoulders.
“What are you doing?”
“You were about to answer three more emails.”
“I was not.”
“You absolutely were.”
“I was going to answer one.”
“That’s how it starts.”
Jason started walking down the hallway.
Tim sighed dramatically.
“I’m being kidnapped.”
“Correct.”
“I could get down myself.”
“I know.”
“So why are you carrying me?”
Jason shrugged as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Because this way you can’t escape.”
Tim huffed a laugh.
“I hate that this is effective.”
“I know.”
Jason carried him all the way to the bedroom doors before setting him carefully on his feet in front of Tim’s room.
“There.”
Tim steadied himself, smoothing down his shirt.
“Satisfied?”
Jason folded his arms.
“Sleep.”
“Jason—”
“We have to raise me from the dead tomorrow.”
Tim blinked.
“…When you say it like that—”
“And,” Jason continued, pointing a finger at him, “you still have work in the morning.”
Tim opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
“…Fair.”
Jason nodded once, satisfied, and turned toward his own bedroom.
He’d barely taken two steps when he heard Tim’s voice behind him.
“…Jay?”
Jason looked back.
Tim was standing in his doorway, one hand resting against the frame.
He looked…uncertain.
Not nervous exactly.
Just hesitant.
“Come with me.”
Jason frowned.
“…What?”
Tim swallowed.
“Come sleep in the same bed as me.”
The hallway fell quiet.
“Oh.”
Jason hadn’t expected that.
Not because he didn’t want to.
Just because…
Since Vegas, they’d never actually shared a bed again.
Not after that first hungover morning.
Not while they were pretending.
Not even after they’d stopped pretending.
Somehow, despite everything else changing, they’d kept separate bedrooms.
Jason rubbed the back of his neck.
“…Yeah.”
A small smile spread across Tim’s face.
“Yeah?”
Jason nodded.
“I can do that.”
Tim stepped aside to let him in.
The room wasn’t much different from Jason’s own expectations.
Books on the nightstand.
A laptop charging on the desk.
A sweater draped carelessly over the back of a chair.
It smelled faintly of coffee and cedar.
Comfortably…
Tim.
Jason kicked off his boots while Tim climbed into bed first, settling against one side and leaving plenty of room.
Jason slid in beside him a moment later.
The mattress dipped beneath his weight.
For a second, both of them seemed acutely aware of how close they were.
Not awkward.
Just…
New.
Tim reached over and switched off the bedside lamp.
Darkness settled around them.
“You good?” Tim asked quietly.
Jason smiled into the dark.
“Yeah.”
A few moments passed.
Then—
“Jay?”
“Mhm?”
“I’m glad you kissed me.”
Jason felt heat creep into his cheeks despite the darkness.
“…Yeah?”
“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while.”
Jason turned his head.
“How long is ‘a while’?”
Tim was quiet long enough that Jason wondered if he wasn’t going to answer.
“…Before Vegas.”
Jason blinked.
“…Seriously?”
“I didn’t think anything would happen.”
Jason laughed softly.
“Neither did I.”
Another comfortable silence settled over them.
Then, without really thinking about it, Jason reached across the space between them until he found Tim’s hand beneath the blankets.
Their fingers intertwined with practiced ease.
Neither of them commented on how natural it felt.
“Night, Tim.”
“Night, Jason.”
Jason expected to lie awake for hours.
He expected to overthink the kiss.
The conversation.
Tomorrow.
Everything.
Instead, listening to Tim’s slow, even breathing beside him, he felt a kind of peace he couldn’t remember experiencing in years.
The nightmares usually came quickly.
Always had.
The warehouse.
The Joker.
The crowbar.
The pit.
They waited for him every night.
Except…
They didn’t.
When morning sunlight slipped through the curtains, Jason woke slowly, blinking against the light.
For several long seconds he simply lay there, confused.
No pounding heartbeat.
No cold sweat.
No lingering terror clinging to the edges of sleep.
Just warmth.
He frowned.
Then he realized why.
Tim was still asleep beside him, one arm loosely draped across Jason’s waist sometime during the night.
Jason smiled to himself.
It was the first night since Vegas they’d shared a bed.
It was also the first night in years that Jason hadn’t been dragged awake by nightmares.
He didn’t know if the two things were connected.
He had a feeling they were.
He closed his eyes again for just a moment longer, letting himself enjoy the quiet.
For once, sleep had been kind to both of them.
And for the first time in a very long time…
Home didn’t feel like a place.
It felt like a person.
—
Jason woke before the alarm.
For once, he didn’t resent it.
The bedroom was still washed in the pale blue light of early morning, the curtains doing little to keep the sunrise out. The apartment was quiet enough that he could hear the hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen and the distant sounds of Gotham waking up.
He stayed exactly where he was.
Sometime during the night, Tim had rolled over and tucked himself against Jason’s side, one arm loosely draped across his waist. His head rested against Jason’s shoulder, his breathing slow and even.
Jason smiled.
It was…nice.
More than nice.
Comforting.
Without really thinking about it, he wrapped an arm a little more securely around Tim and let himself simply exist in the moment.
A few months ago, if someone had told him this would be his morning routine, he’d have laughed them out of the room.
Now…
He couldn’t imagine waking up any other way.
His mind wandered.
To yesterday’s conversation.
To resurrecting Jason Todd.
To telling Alfred.
To eventually telling everyone else.
To the future.
For years, Jason had never let himself think beyond the next mission, the next month, maybe the next year if he was feeling optimistic. Planning too far ahead had always felt dangerous.
Now he found himself wondering what their apartment would look like in another year.
Whether they’d still split chores the same way.
Whether Tim would ever stop leaving coffee mugs everywhere.
(Probably not.)
Whether they’d still end every night together on the couch.
Whether they’d—
Tim shifted in his sleep with a quiet hum, snuggling a little closer.
Jason’s smile softened.
Maybe the future wasn’t such a terrifying thing anymore.
Tim blinked awake a few moments later, squinting sleepily up at him.
For a second he looked adorably confused, as though he’d forgotten where he was.
Then recognition settled in.
A smile spread slowly across his face.
“Morning.”
Jason brushed a few messy strands of hair away from Tim’s forehead.
“Morning, beautiful.”
Tim’s smile widened into something sleepy and genuine.
“Morning, Jay.”
Jason was pretty sure he’d never get tired of hearing that.
Tim yawned.
“What time is it?”
“Early.”
“Ew.”
Jason laughed quietly.
“You are not a morning person.”
“I resent mornings on principle.”
“I know.”
Tim tucked his face briefly against Jason’s shoulder again before looking back up.
“You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“The one that means you’ve been thinking.”
Jason sighed dramatically.
“I have.”
“That’s dangerous.”
“Oh, shut up.”
Jason gave him a gentle jostle, earning a quiet laugh.
“I’ve been thinking about yesterday.”
Tim’s expression grew more attentive.
“…Okay.”
“I think…”
Jason took a slow breath.
“I think we should tell Alfred.”
Tim nodded almost immediately.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
“But…”
Jason grinned.
“We don’t tell Bruce.”
Tim blinked.
“…Go on.”
“Or Dick.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Tim’s mouth.
“…Go on.”
“We let Alfred plan the biggest, most ridiculously elegant wedding Gotham has ever seen.”
Tim was already trying not to laugh.
“And then?”
“And then…”
Jason’s grin turned positively wicked.
“…we let Bruce and Dick figure out why Alfred suddenly needs everyone’s measurements for formalwear.”
Tim stared at him for exactly three seconds before dissolving into helpless giggles.
“Oh my God.”
Jason couldn’t help laughing too.
“They’re going to lose their minds.”
“They absolutely are.”
“Dick is going to think Alfred joined a cult.”
Jason snorted.
“Bruce is going to assume someone’s getting married.”
“He’ll never guess it’s us.”
Jason smiled.
“Exactly.”
Tim wiped tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes.
“You are a terrible influence.”
“I’ve been telling people that for years.”
“I cannot believe we’re actually considering this.”
“We’re absolutely considering this.”
Tim leaned forward just enough to bump his forehead against Jason’s.
“I love you.”
The words came out so naturally that neither of them seemed to realize what had been said until a heartbeat later.
Jason froze.
Tim’s eyes went wide.
“…I—”
Jason kissed him before he could panic.
It was brief.
Warm.
Full of every answer Jason didn’t quite know how to put into words.
When they separated, Jason rested his forehead against Tim’s once more.
“I love you too.”
Tim smiled so brightly it almost hurt to look at.
“So…”
“So.”
“We’re really doing this?”
Jason laughed.
“We’re really doing this.”
—
An hour later they walked into Wayne Manor together.
They found Alfred exactly where they expected.
In the kitchen.
He was calmly rolling out pastry dough, the radio playing softly in the background, looking as though he’d been expecting them despite the lack of warning.
He glanced up as they entered.
“Good morning, Master Jason. Master Timothy.”
“Morning, Alfred,” they answered in unison.
Alfred’s eyes flicked between them.
Then to the way they stood just a little too close together.
Then to the matching silver bands they no longer bothered hiding.
The corners of his mouth lifted almost imperceptibly.
“I had a feeling this visit was not about breakfast.”
Jason exchanged a glance with Tim.
Tim nodded.
Jason took a breath.
“Alfred…”
“We’ve got something to tell you.”
For the first time in decades, Alfred Pennyworth looked genuinely surprised.
It lasted all of half a second before his expression softened into one of unmistakable affection.
He quietly set down his rolling pin.
“I have been waiting rather patiently for the two of you to tell me.”
—
A week later, Jason was beginning to think Alfred might enjoy the game even more than they did.
The invitations had been mailed.
The venue had been booked.
Flowers had somehow become a topic of discussion.
Alfred had politely informed them that, since they had accidentally eloped in Las Vegas, he intended to ensure they experienced at least one proper wedding.
Neither Jason nor Tim had argued.
Now they found themselves standing on the observation platform overlooking the Batcave, hidden just enough that the conversation below drifted up to them unnoticed.
Jason leaned casually against the railing.
Tim stood beside him, trying—and failing—not to smile.
Down below, Bruce and Dick were in the middle of what had apparently become a recurring argument.
“I’m telling you, Dick,” Bruce said, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “There was a wedding invitation in yesterday’s mail. We’ll be expected to attend. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“But no one is talking about who’s getting married!” Dick threw both hands into the air. “How does no one know who’s getting married?”
Bruce looked up from the file in his hand.
“I don’t know.”
“Exactly!”
“It could be someone from the Foundation.”
“It could.”
“It could be one of Lucius’s relatives.”
“It could.”
“It could be…”
Dick stopped abruptly.
His eyes widened.
Bruce sighed.
“What?”
“…Is Alfred getting married?”
Bruce blinked.
“…To whom?”
“I don’t know!”
“Then why would you think that?”
“Because he asked for everyone’s measurements!”
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Alfred has asked for measurements before.”
“Not like this!”
Tim bit down on his lip so hard it almost hurt.
Beside him, Jason had buried his face against the railing to muffle a laugh.
Dick continued pacing.
“What if it’s one of the Titans?”
Bruce shrugged.
“Then we’ll attend.”
“What if it’s Barbara’s cousin?”
“We’ll attend.”
“What if it’s…”
Dick narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“…Jason.”
Bruce looked up.
Jason immediately froze.
Tim’s shoulders tensed beside him.
Dick pointed dramatically into the empty air.
“What if Jason got married?”
Jason looked at Tim.
Tim looked back.
Neither of them moved.
Bruce considered it for exactly two seconds.
“No.”
Dick frowned.
“No?”
“If Jason had gotten married, Alfred would have told me.”
Above them, Jason silently mouthed, Would he?
Tim had to cover his mouth with both hands.
Dick wasn’t convinced.
“But he was wearing a wedding ring.”
Bruce paused.
“…He was.”
“And he admitted he was married.”
“He did.”
“And he refused to say who.”
Bruce frowned thoughtfully.
“…He did.”
Dick leaned forward triumphantly.
“So maybe—”
“But Alfred wouldn’t help him hide it.”
Jason and Tim slowly turned to look at each other.
Neither of them could believe Bruce had just said that sentence with complete confidence.
Tim’s shoulders began shaking.
Jason knew he was laughing silently.
Down below, Bruce continued.
“If Alfred knew Jason was married, he would have informed me.”
At that exact moment, Alfred stepped into the Cave carrying a silver tray with three cups of coffee.
“Master Bruce.”
Bruce accepted one absentmindedly.
“Thank you, Alfred.”
Dick took another.
“Thanks.”
Alfred looked between them with practiced innocence.
“You both appear troubled.”
Dick let out an exasperated groan.
“Alfred, somebody is getting married.”
“So I understand.”
“And you asked for our measurements.”
“I did.”
Dick leaned forward eagerly.
“Who is it?”
Alfred smiled pleasantly.
“I believe they would prefer to tell you themselves.”
Bruce nodded as though that settled the matter.
“Fair enough.”
Dick looked personally betrayed.
“You know?”
“I do.”
“And you’re not going to tell me?”
“I am afraid not, Master Richard.”
Dick threw his head back dramatically.
“Everyone is conspiring against me!”
“I assure you,” Alfred replied smoothly, “that is not the case.”
Above them, Jason snorted.
Tim finally lost the battle with his self-control and let out the tiniest, undignified squeak of laughter.
Three heads snapped upward.
Silence.
Jason slowly leaned over the railing.
“…Hey.”
Dick’s eyes narrowed immediately.
“…Why are you two up there?”
Jason shrugged with exaggerated innocence.
“Date night.”
Tim looked down at Bruce and smiled.
“Hi.”
Dick looked between them several times.
Then his eyes dropped.
To where Jason and Tim were standing shoulder to shoulder.
To the matching silver bands that caught the Cave’s lights.
Then back to their faces.
His mouth slowly fell open.
Jason watched the exact moment every clue from the last three months crashed together in Dick’s mind.
“…No.”
Jason’s grin spread.
“…Yes.”
Beside Bruce, Alfred quietly took a sip of his tea.
“I did rather wonder how long it would take.”
—
Dick looked between the two of them, his eyes darting from Jason to Tim and back again.
His expression shifted from suspicion…
…to confusion…
…to absolute certainty.
His face lit up.
“Oh my God.”
Jason already knew he wasn’t going to like whatever came next.
“You guys are doing a double wedding!”
Tim had to bite the inside of his cheek.
Jason blinked.
“…What?”
“A double wedding!” Dick repeated enthusiastically. “That’s why Alfred needed everyone’s measurements! You and your mystery spouse, and Tim and his mystery spouse!”
Jason glanced sideways at Tim.
Tim’s shoulders were already shaking with silent laughter.
Bruce, meanwhile, had reached an entirely different conclusion.
He looked at Tim first.
“Tim.”
“Yeah?”
“Is it that young man you were seeing last year?”
Tim frowned for a moment before remembering.
“Oh.”
“I thought that relationship ended rather quickly.”
“It did.”
Bruce nodded as though that confirmed his theory.
“So you’ve reconciled.”
Tim smiled—a genuine, easy smile that Jason had become very fond of over the last few months.
“Nah.”
Bruce blinked.
“He and I didn’t even last a month.”
“I see.”
“I’ve been with…” Tim glanced at Jason for the briefest moment before looking back at Bruce. “…them for quite a while now.”
Jason felt warmth bloom in his chest at the quiet certainty in Tim’s voice.
Bruce accepted the answer with a single nod before turning toward Jason.
“And you?”
Jason raised an eyebrow.
“Is it Roy?”
Jason groaned so dramatically that even Alfred hid a smile behind his teacup.
“Why,” Jason demanded of the universe, “does everyone always think it’s Roy?”
Dick shrugged.
“You spend a lot of time together.”
“He’s my best friend.”
“You’ve dated worse.”
“I have.”
“So it’s not impossible.”
“It is impossible.”
Bruce folded his arms.
“So it isn’t Roy.”
“No.”
“You seem certain.”
“I am.”
Jason shook his head, still smiling despite himself.
“I’m not marrying Roy.”
Dick snapped his fingers.
“I knew it!”
“You literally guessed Roy first.”
“I changed my mind.”
“That’s not how guessing works.”
Dick ignored him.
“So who is it?”
Jason leaned casually against the railing.
“I met them years ago.”
Bruce and Dick both listened intently.
“But…”
Jason’s smile softened almost imperceptibly.
“…we only just got our shit together.”
Tim looked over at him.
Their eyes met for just a second.
Long enough for Jason to see the fondness reflected there.
Long enough to feel his own smile grow without meaning to.
Dick watched the exchange.
His brow furrowed.
“Huh.”
Bruce noticed it too.
Neither of them said anything.
Jason looked away first.
“So,” Dick said slowly, “someone you’ve known for years.”
“Mhm.”
“And you’ve only recently started dating.”
“More or less.”
“And they’re close enough to the family that I’ve already met them.”
“Yep.”
Dick began pacing.
“Okay.”
Jason could practically hear the gears turning.
“Not Roy.”
“No.”
“Not one of the Titans.”
“No.”
“Not Artemis.”
Jason gave him a flat look.
“Wrong gender.”
“I was brainstorming!”
Bruce, who had remained silent through most of this, suddenly frowned.
“Tim.”
“Yeah?”
“You said you’ve been with them for quite a while.”
“I did.”
“And Jason…”
Bruce turned.
“…you said you’ve only recently gotten your lives together.”
Jason nodded cautiously.
“I did.”
Bruce looked between them.
Jason.
Tim.
Jason.
Tim.
The matching rings.
The way they stood comfortably close.
The shared smiles.
The tiny glances that neither of them seemed aware they kept exchanging.
Bruce narrowed his eyes.
Jason’s stomach dropped.
Please.
Please figure it out.
Beside him, Tim subtly reached over until the backs of their hands brushed together.
Bruce opened his mouth.
“…Interesting.”
Then he looked away.
“I suppose we’ll meet them at the wedding.”
Jason stared.
Tim stared.
Bruce had gotten closer than anyone else.
And then…
Walked right past the answer.
Jason waited until Bruce turned back toward the Batcomputer.
Then leaned close enough that only Tim could hear him.
“…He’s never living this down.”
Tim’s laugh escaped before he could stop it.
“No,” he whispered back, “he really isn’t.”
—
Three weeks later—almost exactly a month after that first conversation with Alfred—the wedding day arrived.
Somehow, against all odds, they had made it this far.
Jason Todd officially existed again.
Bruce had approached the legal battle with the same relentless determination he brought to everything else in his life. Lawyers had been hired. Records had been unearthed. DNA had been compared. Judges had been persuaded. Government offices that had insisted Jason Todd was dead for years suddenly found themselves correcting decades of paperwork.
It had taken millions of dollars.
Countless meetings.
More signatures than Jason cared to remember.
But in the end…
Jason Todd had been resurrected twice.
Once by the Lazarus Pit.
Once by Bruce Wayne’s legal team.
Jason wasn’t entirely sure which had been more exhausting.
The strangest part hadn’t been the paperwork.
It had been receiving his new birth certificate.
His driver’s license.
His passport.
Holding them in his hands had felt surreal.
For the first time in years, his name wasn’t attached to a fake identity.
He existed.
Legally.
Officially.
When the final documents had arrived, Tim had quietly produced the Vegas marriage certificate from the safe where they’d hidden it.
“So…” he’d said.
Jason had looked at him.
“I guess this actually counts now.”
Tim had smiled.
“It always counted.”
Jason had kissed him before either of them could say anything else.
—
Now they stood together in a quiet room just behind the chapel.
Neither of them had wanted a cathedral.
Or a ballroom.
Or a society event.
Alfred had found them an elegant little historic chapel just outside Gotham.
Private.
Beautiful.
Large enough for family and close friends.
Exactly what they wanted.
Jason tugged absently at the sleeve of his suit jacket.
“You nervous?”
Tim looked over.
“A little.”
“Me too.”
Tim smiled.
“I think that’s probably normal.”
Jason reached over and straightened Tim’s tie.
“You look nice.”
Tim laughed softly.
“So do you.”
“You have to say that.”
“I really don’t.”
Jason rolled his eyes.
“Flirt.”
“You started it.”
“I did.”
Tim’s smile softened.
“You know…”
“What?”
“I never imagined I’d get married like this.”
Jason snorted.
“Accidentally?”
“Accidentally.”
Jason laughed.
“Neither did I.”
A knock came at the door.
Alfred stepped inside.
He looked every inch the perfect butler in his immaculate morning suit, though the warmth in his eyes was entirely personal.
“Gentlemen.”
Jason smiled.
“Everything ready?”
“Indeed.”
Alfred glanced between them.
“I must say…”
His voice carried quiet affection.
“This is rather different from the ceremony I imagined arranging for either of you.”
Jason chuckled.
“Sorry.”
“I assure you, Master Jason…”
Alfred smiled.
“I would not change a single thing.”
Tim cleared his throat.
“So…”
“The guests have arrived.”
“And…?”
Alfred’s smile became positively mischievous.
“Master Bruce and Master Richard remain entirely unaware.”
Jason burst out laughing.
“Seriously?”
“They have spent the last twenty minutes attempting to determine which side of the family they ought to sit on.”
Tim blinked.
“What?”
“They concluded,” Alfred continued with remarkable composure, “that the seating arrangement must correspond to whichever spouse each of you is acquainted with.”
Jason buried his face in his hand.
“They’re impossible.”
“Quite.”
Tim started laughing.
“So…?”
“They have accepted being seated on opposite sides of the aisle.”
Jason looked up.
“…They didn’t question that?”
“They did.”
“And?”
“I informed them the seating chart had been arranged very carefully.”
Jason looked at Tim.
Tim looked back.
Then they both lost it.
“I cannot believe they bought that.”
“They absolutely bought it.”
Alfred waited patiently for them to recover.
When they finally did, he offered each of them a small velvet box.
Inside were their rings.
Not the Vegas rings.
These were the rings Alfred had insisted on commissioning.
Simple platinum bands with a narrow inlay of silver running through the center—a quiet nod to the matching silver rings that had started all of this.
Jason picked his up carefully.
“I still can’t believe you thought of matching the silver.”
Alfred’s expression softened.
“I thought it only fitting to honor the beginning of your story.”
Tim looked at Jason.
“You keeping the Vegas ring?”
Jason smiled.
“I’m never taking it off.”
Tim’s answering smile was impossibly bright.
“Me neither.”
Alfred cleared his throat ever so politely.
“I believe, gentlemen…”
He opened the chapel door.
“…your guests are waiting.”
Jason looked toward the sanctuary beyond.
He could hear quiet conversation.
Dick, probably trying one last time to guess who they were about to meet.
Bruce, undoubtedly pretending not to be curious while being incredibly curious.
Barbara, who had been forced by Alfred to swear she wouldn’t spoil the surprise.
Cass, who had known almost from the beginning and had simply smiled every time someone guessed wrong.
Jason felt Tim’s hand slip into his.
Their fingers intertwined automatically.
“You ready?” Tim asked.
Jason looked at the man he’d accidentally married in Las Vegas.
The man he’d chosen to keep being married to.
The man he’d fallen in love with one ordinary evening at a time.
He smiled.
“Yeah.”
He squeezed Tim’s hand.
“Let’s go get married.”
Tim laughed.
“…Again.”
Jason grinned.
“This time on purpose.”
Together, they walked into the chapel.
Not down the aisle.
They’d decided against that.
Instead, they entered through the small side door beside the altar before any announcement was made. They took their places together at the front of the chapel, standing shoulder to shoulder as they had for months.
Only once they were in position did the music begin.
The guests rose.
Bruce looked up absently.
Dick did the same.
Neither of them understood what they were seeing.
Not yet.
But Jason could almost hear the exact moment their world was about to turn upside down.
—
The ceremony itself was perfect.
Short.
Heartfelt.
Exactly what Jason and Tim had wanted.
Alfred officiated with his usual grace, managing to be both dignified and quietly emotional. Cass cried without embarrassment. Barbara had to look away more than once to hide her smile.
Even Damian looked suspiciously pleased, though he would deny it under torture.
Bruce and Dick, meanwhile, had spent the entire ceremony trying to figure out who the missing bride and groom were.
It wasn't until Alfred said—
"By the authority vested in me..."
—that Bruce's attention sharpened.
It wasn't until—
"Jason Todd and Timothy Drake..."
—that Dick audibly gasped.
And it wasn't until Jason and Tim turned toward one another to exchange rings that the truth finally landed.
Jason could actually see the exact moment Bruce's brain stopped working.
Dick made a strangled noise that sounded suspiciously like a dolphin.
Jason kissed Tim anyway.
When they pulled apart, the applause drowned out everything else.
Almost.
Because Bruce Wayne could apparently move faster than the speed of sound when sufficiently confused.
The moment the ceremony ended, he was standing in front of them.
Jason had barely turned around before Bruce was there.
Tim slipped his hand into Jason's almost instinctively.
Jason looked thoroughly exasperated.
Tim looked like Christmas had come early.
Bruce stared at them.
Then at their rings.
Then back at them.
Finally, in a voice pitched low enough that only the three of them could hear, he said,
"...You're married to your brother."
Jason blinked.
Then slowly looked at Tim.
Tim looked back.
They both burst into laughter.
Bruce did not appear to appreciate this reaction.
Jason eventually managed to compose himself enough to answer.
"Technically..."
He wiped at the corner of one eye.
"...I'm the only one here who's actually your son."
Bruce opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
Jason continued, unable to resist.
"So legally, I'm your son."
He pointed toward Tim.
"And he's your son-in-law."
Tim nodded solemnly.
"Yeah."
Then the corner of his mouth twitched.
"I'm your son-in-law."
Bruce looked like he was recalculating his entire understanding of reality.
"I..."
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I spent a month believing there were two weddings."
"There kind of were," Jason offered.
"There absolutely were not."
"We got married twice."
Bruce closed his eyes.
"That is not helping."
Tim leaned over slightly.
"The first one was an accident."
Bruce's eyes snapped open.
"The first one?"
"Vegas."
Bruce inhaled very, very slowly.
"...Of course it was Vegas."
Jason smiled innocently.
"It seemed like a good idea at the time."
Bruce looked at him.
"You have never said that sentence before something sensible."
Before Bruce could continue, another voice cut through the conversation.
"Aww!"
Dick practically launched himself across the room.
"My brothers!"
He wrapped both Jason and Tim in an impossibly enthusiastic hug before either of them could escape.
"You idiots!"
Jason laughed as Dick nearly squeezed the air out of him.
"Easy!"
"Why wouldn't you tell me?"
Dick pulled back just enough to look between them, positively beaming.
"You've been married this whole time?"
Jason shrugged.
"...Mostly."
"MONTHS!"
"Mhm."
"And you let me investigate!"
"Mhm."
"You watched me make charts!"
Jason looked over at Tim.
"He made charts?"
Tim nodded.
"Color-coded."
Dick pointed accusingly at both of them.
"You are terrible people."
Jason grinned.
"We know."
"You let me think Roy was involved!"
"That part was funny," Tim admitted.
"It was hilarious," Jason corrected.
Dick threw his hands into the air.
"I asked you if it was Roy!"
"You did."
"You said no!"
"I wasn't lying."
"You said you'd known your spouse for years!"
Jason nodded.
"I have."
"You said we'd already met them!"
"We had."
"You said you'd only recently gotten your lives together!"
Jason smiled fondly at Tim.
"We did."
Dick stared.
"...You answered every question truthfully."
"Mhm."
"I just..."
Dick sighed dramatically.
"...asked all the wrong questions."
Jason patted him sympathetically on the shoulder.
"You'll get 'em next time, Detective."
Dick groaned.
"I'm never hearing the end of this."
From somewhere behind them, Barbara called out with unmistakable satisfaction.
"Oh, absolutely not."
Dick turned toward her.
"You knew!"
Barbara raised an innocent eyebrow.
"I figured it out."
"And you didn't tell me?"
"You never asked the right question."
Dick looked personally betrayed.
"You are all the worst."
Cass walked over, smiling softly.
"No."
She looked at Jason and Tim.
"The best."
Jason felt Tim's fingers intertwine with his again.
He looked down at the matching rings—one from Vegas tucked safely beneath the new platinum band, the other freshly exchanged only minutes ago.
They'd started as a joke.
A drunken decision made in a Vegas bar.
Somewhere between the laughter, the secret, the shared apartment, and all the ordinary days in between, it had quietly become the best decision either of them had ever made.
Jason looked over at Tim.
Tim smiled back with that same bright, effortless smile that had made Jason fall in love one day at a time.
Jason smiled in return.
This time, there was nothing accidental about it.