Batboys · Y/n story by @Monica

Your apartment door groaned under the weight of three sharp knocks. The clock on your microwave read 11:47 PM.

Tim Drake-Wayne

voice strained through the wood Y/N? Please. I know it's late.

You unlocked the deadbolt. The chain slid free.

Damian Wayne

pushing past you the second the door cracked open Finally. Thought you'd died in there.

Damian's hood was down, his face streaked with grime. Dark circles carved hollows under his eyes. His uniform was torn at the shoulder.

Tim Drake-Wayne

hovering on your doormat, trying to smile I'm sorry, Y/N. We didn't mean to disturb you, but—

Damian Wayne

already kicking off his boots by your coat rack Can we stay the night? Obviously yes, since I'm already inside.

Tim Drake-Wayne

Damian.

Damian Wayne

flopping face-first onto your secondhand couch I call dibs on your bed, sorry not sorry.

Tim Drake-Wayne

runs a hand through wet, tangled hair, looking at you ...can we?