Tim Drake oneshots

Into the Den

Title: Into the Den

The neon lights outside the club flickered ominously as Tim Drake adjusted the hem of his tight black dress. He didn't love the idea of going undercover solo, much less like this, but he couldn’t risk anyone objecting to his plan. He was determined to get information on Lester Moretti, a drug lord and human trafficker who hid his operations behind the guise of an upscale nightclub. Moretti had been on their radar for weeks, but the Batfamily had been struggling to get close enough to him. That’s when Tim got his idea.

He’d seen how Moretti treated the women in his club. He lavished attention on the young, pretty girls who danced for him, especially the ones who were new and mysterious. If anyone could get close enough to flirt their way into his inner circle, it was someone who knew how to play the game—and Tim Drake was nothing if not resourceful.

But he had left a key detail out when he pitched his solo mission to the family.

"Going in to do recon. Nothing big," Tim had told them earlier in the night. “I’ll be blending in, don’t worry.”

He hadn’t specified how he'd be blending in.

Now, as Tim glanced at his reflection in a tinted window, he barely recognized himself. His normally short hair was tucked beneath a sleek, dark wig that cascaded down his shoulders. His sharp, angular features were softened with carefully applied makeup—something he'd learned a surprising amount about from Steph during their time together. The deep, red lipstick made his lips pop, and the false lashes gave his eyes a seductive, almond shape.

He felt... strangely confident, though slightly self-conscious. Pulling down the short hem again, Tim tried not to think too much about what the others would say if they found out about this little improvisation. His Bat-communicator was turned off, and no one would be able to get ahold of him until after he got the intel.

Inside, the club was buzzing with activity. Music pulsed through the air, drowning out all other sounds as Tim swayed his way through the crowded dance floor. His heels clacked on the ground, but no one seemed to pay much attention. He wasn’t Tim Drake tonight. He was Tessa, a mysterious, sultry woman here to catch the eye of the club's notorious owner.

Moretti sat in a VIP section overlooking the dance floor, a smug grin on his face as his men monitored the room. Tim saw his opening, took a deep breath, and slipped closer to the bar near Moretti’s table. He caught the drug lord’s eye as he leaned against the counter, sipping a drink he’d barely touched.

Moretti’s gaze lingered, and then he nodded at one of his guards to approach. Tim’s pulse quickened.

The guard came up to him, smirking. “The boss wants to see you. Follow me.”

Tim didn’t hesitate, walking with confidence he didn’t quite feel. As he approached, Moretti gave him an appraising look, his eyes roaming over Tim’s disguised form with unsettling interest.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Moretti asked, his voice slick like oil.

“Tessa,” Tim responded, keeping his tone light and flirtatious. He allowed his lips to curl into a smile, though inside, his mind was racing.

Moretti smirked. “You’re new around here, huh? I would’ve remembered a pretty face like yours.”

Tim gave a soft laugh, leaning in just enough to seem interested. “Maybe I just know how to keep a low profile.”

Moretti chuckled, clearly intrigued. “I like that.”

Tim’s stomach churned, but he maintained his composure. He had to keep Moretti talking, keep him interested just long enough to get him to drop some information. But the drug lord was craftier than he’d anticipated, and before long, he was making advances that were far too close for comfort.

Just as Moretti reached out to brush his hand along Tim’s arm, the nightclub doors burst open. Tim's heart sank when he saw the familiar dark figures—Nightwing, Batgirl, Red Hood, and of course, Batman—entering the room, already scanning the crowd.

Moretti’s smile faltered. “What the hell…”

Tim didn’t have time to react before Moretti’s hand was yanked away by Nightwing, who appeared out of nowhere.

“Hands off,” Dick growled, glaring at Moretti.

Tim stood frozen as Jason, Barbara, and Bruce quickly subdued Moretti’s men. His mind raced, a mixture of relief and panic flooding through him. He hadn’t expected them to show up so soon—or at all, really.

Nightwing turned to look at the girl beside him, about to say something when he stopped, blinking in confusion. “Wait… Tim?”

Tim winced. “Uh… surprise?”

Jason's laughter echoed through the room. "No way. Tim, what the hell?"

Barbara’s mouth twitched with amusement, but Bruce’s face remained as stoic as ever. “Drake,” he said, voice flat, “explain yourself.”

Tim sighed, pulling the wig off his head and wiping some of the lipstick off. “I was this close to getting him to spill where the trafficking operation is based. It’s not like I had a lot of options.”

Nightwing shook his head, a mix of exasperation and disbelief on his face. “You dressed up as a girl to flirt with a crime boss?”

Tim shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Bruce crossed his arms, a single eyebrow raised. “This discussion isn’t over.”

But before Tim could respond, Moretti, now handcuffed and glaring at him, growled, “I knew something was off about you, you little—”

Jason kicked the chair, making Moretti flinch. “Hey, watch it. He’s still prettier than you.”

Tim rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help a small smile forming. It might have been one of the craziest plans he’d ever come up with, but somehow, against all odds—it had worked.

Now all he had to do was survive the Batfamily’s inevitable lecture.

(I created what I think Tim would look like on Neku then edited it in ibis paint.)