Tim Drake oneshots

Id please

Title: ID Please

The dimly lit bar was packed with the usual late-night Gotham crowd—off-duty cops, night owls, and the occasional Wayne sneaking in for some peace away from their double lives. Tim Drake and Jason Todd sat at the counter, hoping for a rare quiet evening together, away from the chaos that usually surrounded them.

The bartender, a burly man with a thick beard and a no-nonsense attitude, wiped down the counter as he approached. “Alright,” he grunted, nodding at Tim. “I need some ID.”

Tim, unfazed, reached into his pocket and handed over his driver’s license. “No problem.”

Jason, sitting beside him with his arms crossed, raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Wait, what?” He leaned forward, towering over the counter, his broad shoulders making him look like he could bench-press the bar itself. “You’ve never ID’d me before.”

The bartender glanced at Jason, nonchalant. “Because you’re like thirty.”

Jason’s eyes went wide as he threw his hands in the air. “I’m two years older than him!” He jabbed a thumb in Tim’s direction.

The bartender blinked, giving Jason a once-over. “Yeah, and?”

Tim, trying his best to hold back a laugh, leaned casually against the bar. “It’s the baby face, Jason. You know I’ve got that youthful glow.”

Jason glared, utterly unimpressed. “Youthful glow, my ass.”

Tim smirked. “I just moisturize.”

The bartender, looking between the two of them, squinted as if trying to piece together the absurdity of the situation. He handed Tim his ID back without another word and started to pour their drinks. “Can’t blame a guy for checking. Kid’s barely legal to be in here.”

Jason grumbled, still clearly offended. “Barely legal my—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Tim interrupted, shaking his head. “Look, man, maybe it’s because you look like you could crush a car with your bare hands, and I…” He gestured vaguely to his own much slighter frame. “…don’t.”

Jason huffed, crossing his arms tighter. “Whatever. I could still bench press you if I wanted.”

The bartender set down their drinks, giving Jason a side glance. “You could probably bench press me.”

Tim chuckled as he picked up his drink, giving Jason a playful nudge. “Relax, big guy. At least you don’t have to deal with being mistaken for a high schooler.”

Jason grumbled, sipping his beer. “Yeah, but now I’m stuck with the knowledge that the world thinks I’m ancient.”

Tim raised his glass. “To being carded. And to looking young and beautiful forever.”

Jason rolled his eyes but clinked his bottle against Tim’s glass anyway. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t rub it in.”

The bartender smirked as he moved on to the next customer, leaving Jason to stew in his mild identity crisis and Tim to bask in the glow of his youthful features.

“Next time,” Jason muttered, “I’m not bringing you to a bar.”

Tim grinned, tipping his glass toward Jason. “You’re just mad I still get carded.”

“Damn right I am.”