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Okay, so, look. Bernard probably should have messaged Tim to let him know that he was coming over. But in his defence, he hadn’t been expecting to bump into Batman and his entire fucking team upon unlocking and opening the door to Tim’s flat.
He blinked. Blinked again.
He closed the door.
Opened it again. Rubbed his eyes just to make sure.
Okay, yeah, no, he wasn’t so ill that he'd started hallucinating, they were still there.
Batman and co were in Tim’s flat.
Said flat was an open floor plan meaning that Bernard currently had an unobstructed view of the vigilantes currently lounging in the apartment like they owned it.
Batman— The Freakin’ Batman — was currently in Tim’s minimalist kitchen. It looked like he was attempting to cook. He was being monitored by Nightwing, who was sat on the counter next to him, his entire body tense with stress as he hovered over the other man.
Robin was sat at one of the tall spinny chairs at the kitchen counter. He was playing with one of Tim’s puzzle toys.
Orphan and Spoiler were sat next to him engaged in an intense game of thumb war.
Perhaps most shockingly, Red Hood ( The Actual Red Hood what the fuck— ) was stretched across Tim’s sagging and stained couch, his legs thrown over Signal’s lap. Tim's second-hand TV was playing Mean Girls on mute with the subtitles on. An open box of breadsticks was balanced on the arm of the couch.
And they were all staring at him.
(Some small part of Bernard that hadn’t yet been rendered unable to operate by shock thanked his lucky stars that they were still in their disguises and he hadn’t walked in on them half out of their costumes. He really didn't want to find out what happened to people who discovered Batman's real identity. They probably had a mindwipe machine... or they'd imprison him and replace him with a clone so nobody noticed.)
Cautiously, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him with a click. The neighbours would have a field day if they saw Batman and what seemed to be his entire colony of vigilante friends (and enemies? Are Batman and Red Hood friends?) gathered in their rundown apartment block.
The staring continued.
Bernard felt his face heating up, very aware that he was in front of many of his childhood (and current) heroes and that he looked like death warmed over. And he was wearing a Nightwing hoodie. In front of Nightwing.
Why the fuck are there vigilantes in Tim's apartment? And more importantly, where the fuck is Tim?
Bernard shrieked as a batarang embedded itself in Tim’s door, just above his head.
Robin had just thrown a knife at him. What the fuck.
“Hey! Don’t throw knives at me!” Bernard said, feeling indignant. This was his boyfriend’s apartment, not theirs, so only he got to throw knives!
Also, that was going to be a bitch to get out of the door later; Bernard knew his bat-facts, and he knew that batarangs are sharp on all sides on account of many hours of lost sleep and way too much internet research. So on second thoughts, maybe he'd just leave it there for Tim to deal with.
“Um. Hello?” Nightwing said, his tone of voice suggesting that it was shocking that Bernard was here, like Bernard was the intruder here and not them. His expression was a mix of who-are-you, why-are-you-here, and why-are-you-confused… like walking into his boyfriend’s flat to find Gotham’s protectors making themselves at home should be normal.
“Hi.” Bernard was impressed that his voice didn’t crack considering he was currently staring at his heroes (one of whom had just thrown a knife at him). "...Hey. You're Nightwing."
He had the sudden urge to ask Batman if the werewolf conspiracy about him and Robin was true, but decided that probably wasn’t a smart course of action.
Okay. Step one, find out how they got in. Step two, find out why they’re here. Step three— wait. Where was Tim? Why hadn't he emerged from wherever he was hiding yet? Tim was supposed to be home today.
“So uh… why are you guys here? And where’s Tim?” Bernard asked awkwardly, using his heels to pull off his loosely laced up shoes without bending down so he didn’t have to look away from the highly dangerous group of people in front of him. He chucked his grubby vans onto the pile by the door.
He noticed that Tim’s beat-up red converse were still messily piled on top of each other. Which meant he was still here because they were his favourite shoes and he refused to go out wearing other shoes unless he was going to work or a work-related event.
The other option was that he’d been kidnapped.
This was actually highly possible considering there were vigilantes in his flat, which definitely didn't happen unless something was seriously wrong. And Tim was like... super rich. Not that you could tell by the state of his shabby apartment full of second-hand appliances, but that was sort of the point of Tim's preferred decor; he liked to distance himself as much from his parents and his upbringing as much as he conceivably could while still living his life as Tim Drake-Wayne.
Also Tim and Bernard had a rocky history with cults. Bernard himself had been kidnapped by a cult a couple of years ago on their first 'date'... yeah, he couldn't rule out the kidnapped-by-a-cult option just yet.
Neglecting to answer his questions, Batman demanded (in what had to be his most intimidating interrogation growl because seriously, it was terrifying). “Who are you.”
Bernard did his best to hide his flinch (he was unsuccessful but give him a break, that was The Freakin’ Batman) and answered because he valued his life at least a little bit, and also because if Tim had been kidnapped he needed Batman to not be mad at him so he’d help him find him. “Uh… Bernard?”
It came out as a question for some reason.
A look of realisation passed over Spoiler’s face. No one noticed, too focused on the blond boy hovering by Tim’s door.
“How did you get in?” Batman pressed.
Why were they acting like he was the intruder here? He basically lived here! They’re the ones who (probably) broke in!
Now Bernard was starting to get very, very nervous. Usually he performed fine in stressful situations, but this— this is a whole new level of stress!
“I uh— I have a key?” Bernard was very confused.
So were the vigilantes.
“You have a key?” Nightwing frowned, “I didn’t know Tim had a roommate.”
Bernard ignored the part of his brain that chimed “And they were roommates!”
“You know Tim?” Bernard asked.
How the fuck did they know Tim?
Wait. Tim knew Batman and hadn't told him? Now that's just fucking rude.
... Unless they knew Tim because he’d been kidnapped? Okay, no, he needs to calm down, there’s literally no proof that Tim was kidnapped yet, he’s jumping to conclusions.
A brief look of panic crossed Nightwing’s face. “Yes— no— yes … no. No.”
Bernard had assumed masked vigilantes would be better at lying.
“Wow. That really clears that up. Thanks.” He replied sarcastically, shrugging off his coat and hanging it up on their Batman-themed coat hooks. Tim had bought them at a car boot sale because Bernard had pointed them out and laughed like they were the funniest thing he’d ever seen. Bernard was now really regretting their existence and hoped Batman hadn’t spotted them.
(Who was he kidding? That’s literally The World's Greatest Detective. Of course he noticed the Batman-themed coat hooks.)
“This apartment has one bedroom containing a queen size bed, and the bathroom has only one toothbrush.” Robin interrupted matter-of-factly, clearly suspicious of Bernard. "This suggests that this apartment has one singular inhabitant, which we know to be Drake."
Bernard paused, wondering how to deal with this situation, “Okay. Good to know my toothbrush has disappeared, I seriously have no idea where it’s gone. But the bedroom and bed thing really isn't a problem for us."
Nightwing raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on the hints that Bernard was dropping (he'd hope so considering he'd basically written "WE'RE BOYFRIENDS" on a sign and smacked them in the face with it). "Oh?"
Bernard shrugged as casually as possible, "Mhm. Y’know, cause I’m Tim’s boyfriend and all that."
Silence met his announcement. Batman dropped the spatula he was holding.
(Wait. How long had he been holding that spatula? Shit, now there’s some weird, yellow coloured, lumpy substance all over Tim’s kitchen floor— what the fuck is he even making?)
Bernard felt his stomach sink. Shit. There’s no way they’re homophobic, right? I mean they’re Gotham’s protectors, which has to count for something, people don’t do what they do unless they’re good people. But still. Sometimes the homophobic ones were the last people you expected them to be.
“Oh.” Was all Nightwing said, something like realisation painting his features.
Bernard’s stomach sank even further. He felt nauseous.
There was no way he’d come out on top of a fight with any of these vigilantes if they decided they were gonna beat him up for being queer. Bernard tended to come out on top when people attempted to get into fights with him over his sexuality but he’d never had to fight someone like the fucking Batman.
He opened his mouth to do damage control, make a joke about how he was kidding and they were just bros or something.
Before he could, the door to Tim’s bedroom opened.
Red Robin walked out.
He was carrying a mug of coffee in one hand and balancing Tim’s open laptop (it was covered in stickers, it was definitely Tim’s laptop) in his other hand. He was squinting at the bright screen, which was illuminating his face.
His very, very unmasked face.
Oh my God.
“Tim?!” Bernard gaped.
If Bernard was a computer he’d have a frozen loading circle stuck on his forehead right now.
Bernard.exe has stopped responding.
What the fuck.
Tim’s head snapped up and he almost dropped the laptop he was holding. “Bernard?”
Bernard stared, mouth hanging open as he drank in the sight of his boyfriend in an armoured (very skin-tight) vigilante suit.
His first though was, holy fucking shit, my boyfriend is Red Robin.
His second thought was, holy fucking SHIT. My boyfriend is Red Robin.
This actually explains a lot.
“What are you doing here, Berns?” Tim asked after a second of silence while they all processed, an expression of panic flickering across his face. His eyes briefly flickered to Batman before flashing back to Bernard.
This was a fair question. After all, Bernard was supposed to be at home in bed, sick. But also, who the fuck told Tim he could ask the questions here? He's the one conspiring with vigilantes!
(And also is a vigilante himself, his brain helpfully added… and also didn’t tell you.)
“Was craving hot chocolate. My place is all out so I came to raid the emergency stash at yours.” Bernard replied. “More importantly, why the fuck is Batman in your apartment.” He could practically see the cogs turning in Tim’s head as he tried to come up with a believable lie. “And before you lie and tell me you’re all cosplaying or something, I’m not stupid Tim, I know these guys are the real deal. Also, Robin threw a knife at me, which kind of sealed the deal.”
Tim paused as he soaked this in, eyes briefly flickering to the batarang embedded in the door behind Bernard, then spun on Robin, an annoyed expression settling on his face. “You threw a knife at my— at Bernard?!”
(“You threw a knife at my boyfriend?!”)
Robin huffed and crossed his arms. “It was a batarang.”
“That doesn’t make it any better Robin!” Tim admonished.
“I also did not know he was your boyfriend. I thought he may have been an intruder.” Robin justified, crossing his arms with a huff.
“And I was not aiming to maim, only to intimidate.” He added, almost as an afterthought.
Tim didn’t seem to register that Robin had called Bernard his boyfriend.
He eyed Bernard, taking in his appearance. His sweaty blond hair was stuck to his forehead slightly, his skin was pallid and sick-looking, he had tired bags under his eyes and generally exuded an aura of illness. He was also wearing grey sweatpants, a horrifically bright Nightwing hoodie, and mismatched socks.
He was the least threatening looking threat Tim had ever seen.
“Looking like that?” He asked critically.
“Looks can be deceiving.” Is all Robin said in return. He picked up Tim’s puzzle toy again.
Tim froze, “Wait. What did you call Bernard–”
Bernard's body then decided it was the perfect time for him to have a coughing fit.
And this time it actually was, before anyone could reveal that Bernard had potentially outed their relationship to the rest of his family—and it definitely was his family, now that Bernard knew Tim was Red Robin, because that was definitely Dick Grayson under that Nightwing mask, and that was definitely Duke Thomas in the Signal suit, which meant that fucking Bruce Wayne, Bruce fucking Wayne, was the freakin’ Batman —by revealing that he was Tim’s boyfriend.
Tim was across the room in seconds, his arm sliding around Bernard’s waist and hand rubbing comforting circles on his back. His other hand flicked in Nightwing’s direction, gesturing for a glass of water.
“Ugh.” Bernard groaned, squeezing his eyes closed as his head throbbed in the aftermath of his coughing fit. He took the glass of water from Nightwing. “Ow.”
Tim guided him further into his apartment and sat down in one of the armchairs, tugging Bernard so he ended up half sprawled on top of him and half sat in the armchair with him.
Bernard sipped some of his water and then turned to look at his boyfriend, who was watching him worriedly.
“Y’know. You being a vigilante is so much better than all the other alternatives I’d come up with. My current theory was that you and your family were part of the mafia or the Court of Owls or something.” Bernard grinned tiredly.
Batman (Bruce fucking Wayne) stiffened, “The Court of Owls is a nursery rhyme created to scare children, they’re urban legend. They aren’t real.”
“Hmm?” Bernard blinked. “Oh. Yeah. They totally are, dude.” Oh my God, no, he just called Batman dude. Someone kill him now. “They’re this, like, cult of Gotham’s oldest, richest and most corrupt families and they, like, make all the bad shit happen and stuff. They have immortal assassins, which while being pretty fucking awesome is also completely fucking terrifying. And—”
“I know what they are. I want to know how you know.” Batman interrupted. (That’s a real bad habit of his, someone should tell him not to do that.)
Bernard shrugged and yawned, “Conspiracy theories. Reddit. Way too much free time during highschool.” He coughed weakly. “Also, just in case you were interested, my other theory was that Tim had joined another cult. I was gonna be so mad with him if that was it, I have a whole PowerPoint prepared and everything.”
Red Hood spoke up for the first time. He’d paused Mean Girls. “Another cult?”
“Well yeah, what else was I supposed to assume when he was coming home bruised and bleeding and sneaking out at all times of the night.” Bernard frowned, completely misunderstanding why Red Hood sounded incredulous and answering like it was obvious.
Batman shot Tim a dirty look which had Bernard quickly jumping to his defence, “I basically live with him so there was no way I wasn’t going to notice that something was up with him. Also he’s rich, rich people can’t be trusted.” Tim gave him a wounded look and Bernard patted his arm consolingly. “Sorry babe.”
“He’s unhinged.” Signal, Duke Thomas, muttered to Red Hood.
Red Hood tilted his head in a way that was very menacing (whether that was intentional or not) as he considered Bernard, twirling a breadstick between his fingers, “Obviously. If he’s dating Timmers here, then he’s got to have at least a few marbles loose.”
Tim stiffened.
Bernard was confused. Tim was out to his family… was he ashamed of him or something?
The thought left a sour taste in his mouth.
Tim’s entire body sagged and he groaned, “This is so not how I wanted you guys to meet my boyfriend for the first time.” He hooked his chin over Bernard’s shoulder, “And this is not how I wanted you to find out about my… night job.”
The sour taste went away. Of course Tim wasn’t ashamed of him… stupid paranoia.
Bernard snorted, “That makes you sound like a stripper.”
Tim smacked his arm lightly.
“No need to get upset, you’d make a great stripper, babe,” He teased. “Also, this whole vigilante getup,” He gestured up and down Tim’s body, “Is like super hot.”
Tim flushed bright red. “Bernard!”
Spoiler groaned dramatically and made a show out of attempting to cover both Robin and Orphan’s ears at the same time, “Not around the children!”
“Can we just circle back to the cult thing again please, because I feel like we brushed past that way too quickly.” Signal said, holding his hand in the air like they were in a classroom.
Nightwing, who was now perched on the arm of the couch next to Red Hood, pointed a breadstick at him, “Yes. Yes I completely agree, let's talk about that. Tim. Care to explain?”
Tim blinked and then said, “No.”
All eyes turned to Bernard, who groaned and said, “If you want me to tell you I demand hot chocolate as payment. And you have to give it to me before I tell you.”
Bernard’s hot chocolate addiction was almost as bad as Tim’s coffee addiction. Almost.
When Bernard was situated with his hot chocolate (finally!) he took several mouthfuls before explaining to the gathered vigilantes, “Our first date got crashed by a Chaos Monster that kidnapped me because a cult wanted to sacrifice me. Tim joined it undercover and then Robin saved me.” He pointed at Robin. “But not you Robin.” He pointed over his shoulder at Tim. “You Robin. Then Tim took me out on a real date after.”
There was silence.
“What is a Chaos Monster?” Orphan asked quietly.
Bernard and Tim shuddered.
“Trust me Cass, you don’t want to know.” Tim replied. Then he blinked. “Oh! You guys need to introduce yourselves to Bernard.”
The next two minutes of Bernard’s life were probably the weirdest ever. And that’s saying something, because he was almost sacrificed by a cult and it doesn’t get much weirder than that.
Despite the general weirdness of the situation, it was all going relatively as he had predicted; Batman removed his cowl and he was Bruce Wayne, Nightwing removed his mask and he was Dick Grayson, Robin removed his mask and he was Damian Wayne, etc.
And then Red Hood removed his helmet, and then the red domino mask that lay underneath.
Bernard blinked, wondered again if he was so ill he’d started hallucinating because he was looking at a dead man.
Jason Todd grinned back at him.
A much older than 15—which is when he allegedly died—Jason Todd.
Bernard blinked.
“Hey, I’m Jason.” Jason said casually.
What.
“What.”
Bernard.exe has stopped responding. (Again.)
Wait a damn minute. Wait a damn minute. This guy is supposed to be dead!
“So about that Court of Owls theory I had—” Bernard started only to be cut off by Nightwing suddenly asking, “Is something burning?”
“The pancakes!” Bruce Wayne, and he was Bruce now (he’d removed the cowl), gasped, running to the kitchen where he’d left his (very concerning) pancake mixture cooking in the pan after Bernard had arrived.
As Bruce and Dick attempted to put out the fire Bruce had started, Bernard leaned back into Tim, who was resting his chin on his shoulder, and closed his eyes, “Babe, your family is so fucking weird. I can’t believe this is your life.”
Tim snorted slightly, “I know Berns, and this is only the start. Wait until you meet my friends from my Young Justice days… and see the Batcave.”
Bernard’s eyes snapped open and he sat straight up, turning to stare at Tim with wide, excited eyes, “The Batcave is real?!”