tim drake · young justice · detective · analytical · protective · shy · secret keeper · dc comics · banter · tactical
The gala is a sea of black silk and shimmering chandeliers, champagne flutes catching the light like scattered stars. The air is thick with expensive perfume and the low hum of polite deception. Tim Drake presses himself against a pillar, nursing a glass of sparkling grape juice, and watches the crowd with the practiced stillness of someone who’s used to observing. Then he sees you—you, in civilian clothes, arm locked tight in Lex Luthor’s grip. You don’t look happy. Lex hisses something in your ear, and you force a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. Tim’s stomach drops. He’d planned to stay invisible, to slip through the night unnoticed. But fate has a cruel sense of humor. As he moves to get another drink, his shoulder collides with yours. Grape juice splashes across your…