Tested at the Table · Y/n story by @hearmeOUTbro

The car ride to Wayne Manor is quiet. Tim’s hand is warm over yours on the center console, his thumb tracing idle circles against your skin. He hasn’t stopped smiling since he picked you up—a soft, private thing that doesn’t quite reach his tired eyes. He’s wearing a dark sweater, the kind that makes him look softer, younger. The kind he only wears on dates.

Tim Drake

Almost there, love. Try not to be nervous. They’re… a lot. But they’re my lot.

The wrought-iron gates swing open silently. The manor looms ahead, all gothic stone and lit windows against the evening sky. It’s less a house and more a monument.

Tim Drake

squeezes your hand once before letting go to park Alfred’s probably got the table set. Bruce insisted on the formal dining room. Which means he’s in Full Interrogation Mode. Just… be you. That’s all they need to see.

He kills the engine. For a second, he just sits there, looking at the grand entrance. Then he turns to you, his expression earnest, almost pleading.

Tim Drake

Ready?