Tim Drake oneshots

Old Habits Die Hard

Title: Old Habits Die Hard

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The dark alleys of Gotham had a new vigilante, a fresh face wrapped in a mix of makeshift armor and bravado. The self-proclaimed "Revenant" had been cleaning up small-time crooks and desperately trying to get the attention of the city's legends. His latest attempt involved finding a certain retired crimefighter and asking—no, demanding—training.

Tim Drake stood in the doorway of his cozy brownstone, his hair tousled and graying at the temples. He was dressed casually in a plain shirt and sweatpants, looking as far removed from his days in the Bat-suit as one could imagine.

Revenant blinked, squinting at the man who stood in front of him. "I’m sorry, do you think this scruffy, geriatric bag of bones looks like a legend?" He glanced around, half-expecting someone to jump out and yell "Gotcha!" because this couldn't possibly be him.

Tim raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms with an unimpressed look. "I'm sorry, legend? No, I'm not going to train you. I have better things to do."

The young vigilante scoffed. "Like what? Bingo? Feeding the pigeons?" There was an edge of frustration in his voice, his enthusiasm slowly deflating in the face of Tim's nonchalance.

Tim let out a small laugh. "My husband, actually." He casually turned to walk back inside, as if that was the end of the conversation.

Revenant’s eyes widened in surprise. "Wait—your husband? You're turning down mentoring the next great Gotham vigilante to go... what? Play house?" There was disbelief there, as if the idea of a retired vigilante having a normal life was foreign to him.

Tim paused, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. "Trust me, kid, it's a full-time job." He started to close the door, but paused when he heard a frustrated groan.

"Come on, you can't seriously be done with all of this," Revenant protested. "I know you still have it in you. I've seen the footage—everyone's seen it. You were a legend."

"And I paid the price for it," Tim replied, his tone softening. "If you want to survive long enough to have something worth fighting for, you need to learn the right lessons. I’m not the person to teach them to you."

Just as he was about to close the door again, another voice echoed from inside the house. "Tim, darling, is everything okay?"

Revenant watched as a tall figure appeared behind Tim, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. The man was striking, with red hair and golden eyes that shone even in the dim lighting of the house. He was effortlessly beautiful, with a presence that spoke of confidence and danger. Revenant's jaw nearly dropped. "Wait... Azruelle Von Valhidra? The Azruelle? You're married to him?"

Tim gave a knowing smile, leaning into his husband. "Yeah, that's right. My husband." He shot a quick glance at Azruelle, who looked both amused and mildly intrigued by the young vigilante at their doorstep.

Azruelle smirked. "What, did you come here thinking Timmy was still prowling rooftops and throwing punches?" He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "He's retired, sweetheart. These days, he's all mine."

Revenant took a step back, bewildered. This wasn't what he'd expected—at all. His mouth opened and closed as he struggled to find a response. "You... you’re really done with being a vigilante?" he finally managed.

Tim looked him straight in the eye, his voice calm but firm. "I found something worth more than Gotham's criminals. I'm not about to risk losing it. You’re on your own, kid."

With that, Tim closed the door, leaving the young vigilante standing there in the dark. Behind the door, Azruelle looked at his husband with a playful glint in his eyes. "You handled that well, love."

Tim sighed, leaning against him. "He'll figure it out. Or he won't. But I’ve already done my time. Gotham doesn’t own me anymore."

Azruelle kissed his temple, a small smile playing on his lips. "No, it doesn’t. But I do."

Tim chuckled, wrapping an arm around his husband as they walked further into the house, leaving the past firmly behind them.