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lucadina · 5 years

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Enigma Girl (2)

Rating: T

Pairing: Eren x Annie

You can read the first part here!

Supper is a predictable occurrence. And kind of gross, sometimes.

The food isn't normally good, nor is it bad. Tonight, however, the main dish may resemble a rendition of the usual potato stew, but might as well be pig slop. That's what happens when the instructors think it's a good idea to assign Connie and Sasha to the same kitchen duty schedule. Eren raises his spoon to his nose, takes a whiff of the greyish-red pudding thing he's scooped up, and tries not to retch. He sets the spoon back down.

'This is disgusting,' Mikasa says bluntly.

Too chicken to agree, Armin opts instead to placate the situation, 'Haha... Well, we've got to eat, since it's another rough day tomorrow.'

Eren remains silent. He's thinking about Annie. Specifically, he's mulling over their encounter earlier in the day, at the forest during hand-to-hand combat training.

Why did he follow her? Was it really an attempt at friendship? No, he's not that pure. Truthfully, he doesn't really know why he’s relentlessly chasing after her. It’s his choice and yet, without so much as an utterance of a word from her, he feels spellbound, like she had beckoned him to year for her - like a fish swimming towards a lure. Not that he regrets it. When she was on top of him, her lips upon his wrist, teeth merely a breath away from his skin; he thinks that moment is a fond memory, one he replays over and over in his head. Weird, considering how Annie is singularly the most terrifying woman he's ever met.

And he's seen some odd ladies crawling the streets at night, none of which have ever struck him as sexy.

Wait. Stop. Not that Annie's—

Going red in the face, Eren chokes on a cry. Mikasa is quick to pat his back and ask what's wrong, but he only brushes her off and hangs his head in shame.

Reiner, who's decided to invite himself and Bertholdt to join Eren's group for dinner and is seated across the table from said suicidal blockhead, has a burning question at the back of his mind. He just doesn't know how to bring it up. Really, a more appropriate setting to do so would be in a few hours at the boys' barracks. But Reiner is a nosy little weasel in bear's clothing who revels in drama (particularly when it relates to a that blonde bitch) and he can't take the suspense any longer.

'Eren, is something going on between you and Annie?'

Every single pair of eyes in the room fly to Reiner.

Even Annie's, if only momentarily.

'What?!' Eren doesn't mean to come across so incredulously, as though the possibility of him harbouring romantic feelings for said girl is preposterous, because he actually might like her but wow— he's never been into girls except the imaginary one with a killer bod that lives in his head and hold on; this is a bold question, even for the outspoken Reiner.

'R-Reiner, please...' Bertholdt clears his throat, throwing a quick glance at the woman they're presently chatting about. Annie’ who's seated three tables over, is unfazed. She simply stares disinterestedly at her untouched meal, 'I don't think Eren wants to talk about that. Let's just enjoy our dinner...'

'Oh, come on. It's just a question.'

'You are the only person she pairs with during combat training.' Armin wonders aloud before backpedaling because Mikasa's glare is that terrifying, 'But of course, it's not practical to get involved romantically with someone, considering we're here to become soldiers.'

Eren frowns, 'Soldiers can have wives. I'd like one eventually.'

'You'd like to wife up Annie?' Reiner wiggles his eyebrows.

'Well, I think Eren's uncomfortable, so we should really move on!' Bertholdt clucks, slapping a palm on Reiner's back with enough force to squash a small animal. Against Reiner's build, it barely registers as a friendly handshake, 'Right?!'

'I'm not uncomfortable,' he bluffs, 'Besides,' a pause to swallow a spoonful of his shit-stew even though it makes him want to gag (he's trying to make a point that he's committed to what he's about to say), 'You guys are seriously making a big deal out of nothing. Annie and I just spar sometimes.'

'Oh, come on,' Reiner snorts, 'I wouldn't blame ya, Eren. I know she's a soulless prune, but she has a nice-'

Mikasa interjects, 'Eren still hasn't eaten. 'You're distracting him.'

It's too late. Eren's offended, for a few reasons. Interestingly enough, that last, unfinished remark regarding Annie's derriere sours him. Annie probably heard that. Did she expect him to defend her modesty? No— she'd probably kick him between his legs and mutter something like I don't need a man to defend me, especially not a boy like you, Yeager! It'll just piss them both off if he says anything.

So much for convincing her that he's interested in who she is as a person, as a human, and not just as a mentor. He can't keep on pretending like he isn't hurt by her, especially after what she pulled in the woods today.

'I don't want to talk about this anymore,' Eren's eyes darken as he gets to his feet, then walks out of the hall.

Mikasa follows him out. So does Armin.

Bertholdt scolds Reiner for his insensitivity.

Everyone else resumes their supper.

Minus Annie, who seethes in silence.

Soulless prune?

Soulless prune?!

Reiner's never been her favourite person, but he's officially on her list. That list. A list that has her preoccupied with thoughts of making Reiner disappear for the next hour of dinner. Before she thinks herself up into actually applying her imagination to reality, Mina interrupts: 'Hey...' she tries to whisper, but she's too loud anyway, 'What's up with you and Yeager?'

Annie shrugs. She bites into her bread, hoping that no one else will start a conversation with her if she's got food in her mouth.

Her plan doesn't work.

Stupid teenage girls; they're unrelenting, and it isn't just Mina anymore either. Now Hannah and Moira and Laura (Annie's guessing their names, they've never spoken to her prior to now) have started shooting questions her way despite not getting a single answer. Perhaps they assume that she'll cave in to their persistence at some point.

'Do you two hang out outside of training?'

'Who made the first move?'

'Do you like him?'

'I'm eating,' Annie snaps— that last question had cut her somewhere deep.

The girls go quiet. Still, they've won: Bingo! Mina shoots Hannah a playful smirk. There's a silent understanding; can't wait to giggle about this later!

The rest of the mess hall reverts back to its usual mild chatter. Jean's bitching about Eren somewhere to the far right, by the door. Marco's trying to calm him down. On the table over, Reiner's giving a speech about how romance is fun, but should be approached with caution since the life they all lead is that of a soldier's.

'Dangerous and unpredictable,' Reiner beams loudly, 'So we should make smart choices. You know— ones we won't regret later.'

Annie scoffs to herself. She knows that he's stupidly aimed that comment at her, which only serves to amplify the murderous intent she already feels towards him. But she'll play it cool, for now. No point in blowing a gasket. She tries to finish the rest of her bread, but only gets to half of it before she drops it onto her cold stew.

The bells chime, signalling the end of the hour.

Annie doesn't immediately get up. She's tired.

Reiner and Bertholdt pass her. The latter's always concerned about her, and this time is no exception, 'You didn't eat much,' he observes meekly. He looks like he wants to say something else, but is intercepted by his fellow warrior.

'It's useless,' Reiner shoots Annie a dark look, 'She never did learn not to play with her food.'

.......................................................................................

Eren doesn't spar with Annie for a month.

Four weeks.

Thirty-one days.

Whatever; she's anxious about it by the time the cold weather rolls in. It's snowing outside, and will probably continue to for the rest of the season. Apparently, in this side of the world, hotter summers bleed into biting winters. Consequently, hand-to-hand combat training is suspended until further notice. The instructors don't want any of the cadets dying on them, after all. Not when the militia is in desperate need of bodies.

Of course, this all means that Annie has absolutely no excuse to interact with Eren.

It's not like he approaches her anymore, not after that fiasco in the forest.

She expected him to put distance. Pushing people away is instinctual for her. But it was even easier to commit to dismissing Eren because his passion frightens her. He's special; so human, but in a way that is foreign to her. Unlike herself, who bends weakly to the will of unknown forces, Eren charges straight into the fray without a second thought. He's defiant, beautifully so, like a single, bright flame flickering a brilliant orange amidst the ice.

Maybe Annie's a little jealous of him.

Maybe she misses him.

Maybe.

'Hey,' she greets him curtly once as they pass each other before roll call.

Eren offers a small, hollow smile. Beyond that, he doesn't say anything and speeds past her.

Annie's surprised by how much his indifference hurts her.

.......................................................................................

There's something that hurts a little more, and Annie deems herself selfish for allowing herself to be stung in the first place.

Eren's a happy person. Despite his history, he's happy.

She observes this in the sparks that go off in his eyes before the instructors introduce a new training course or when he succeeds in what he's previously failed at. He's equally energetic when he's smashing his fist onto Jean's ribs, only to get beaten up right back and whisked away by Mikasa a minute later. That older sister figure of his, together with Armin, scold and console Eren in that order after each of his episodes. Then, the very next day, Eren's got another goofy grin on his face and is ready to fight another day.

He's seen the Titans. Yet, he braves this danger. He dedicates his life, even if it's insignificant relative to the rest of the militia.

He has an unwavering sense of purpose, and because of this, he can be happy.

He knows who he is.

She does not.

'Stare at him any longer and you might as well be eating him instead of your dinner, Leonhart.' Ymir mutters under her breath.

Annie blinks, snapping out of her stupor. She didn't even realise that her gaze has been glued to Eren until now. Aware that a blush blooms across her cheeks, she directs her attention to her untouched bean soup. Is it bean? It's green, with yellow blotches at the sides where the oil separates. Disgusting. She can't do this. But she has to, or she'll be forced to endure another grilling from the girls.

'If you're so into him, why not just go for it?' Ymir continues, nudging her seat-mate with an elbow. Annie's at least thankful that the taller woman is trying to keep her inquiries discreet. The others haven't caught onto their topic. Not even Krista, who's chatting away to the rest of the table about whatever because it doesn't really matter and they all just want an excuse to admire her. 'Leonhart,' Ymir presses while the others are distracted, 'What's stopping you?'

Annie swirls her soup with a spoon, 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'I think he likes you.'

'Well, he shouldn't.'

.......................................................................................

This afternoon, Annie's assigned to do meal prep.

She actually likes to do the cooking because she's a) usually paired with someone too scared to bother her with conversation, and b) it's quiet in the kitchen, away from the hooligans letting loose after a rough day of training. Actually, she seems to have an extra stroke of luck today considering that she's been working for half an hour and yet, no one's joined her. Perhaps she's been tasked to do this all alone, which isn't so bad. She can get it done.

Winter is dogged. Annie doesn't recall experiencing anything quite like it. It's as if the earth itself is rebelling, screaming something like wake up, you fools! There are traitors amongst you!

Annie considers herself.

She's not a good person, but she'd like to believe that she's still a person.

'Hey.'

Annie's heart skips a beat. She recognises that voice, and the familiarity sets off a thrill in her gut that's uncharacteristic of her. Too flustered to even think to put the potato she's been working on down onto the table, she turns on her heel. Potato in her hand and all.

To Eren, it's a strange sight. This strong girl who's given him a hundred bruises and two broken ribs looks harmless in an apron. Domesticated, even. It's not just the fact that she's cooking or that she's dressed for the part; her crystalline-blue eyes are wide, frightened and sparkling with anticipation, like she's seen a friendly ghost. Except they're not friends, so she has no business wearing that expression on her face.

'Sorry I'm late,' he grumbles and reaches for another apron hanging on the hook of the door. He's clearly avoiding her. His back faces her, and his eyes focus on the furthest thing from her body: the empty pot where the stew of the night is supposed to boil in. He busies himself with it. Takes it to the sink, starts scrubbing at the metal. Anything to keep from having to walk over to her.

Disappointed, Annie resumes her potato peeling. Well, more like hacking. She's lopping off the skin in jagged, reckless strokes of a knife. She's bothered by the wordless grudge of a stupid teenage boy who can't lower his fists. What’s worse is she can't even control this feeling she has; of guilt and desire, of a need so tempting that she feels it in her chest now despite having her interest rebuffed by Eren Yeager of all people.

Fifteen minutes pass. Annie knows because she's counting the seconds in her head. She has to, or she won't be able to keep herself calm enough to stop herself from kicking her companion to the ground.

She supposes it won't matter because it'll all be recut into chunks for the stew soon anyway.

Wrong.

Keith Shadis enters, whipping the door open with so much force that the knob hits a wall. His attention immediately flies to Eren, who's started filling the pot with water. As much as Shadis is looking forward to this particular subordinate's next ass-kicking, he can't very well punish without crime, can he? This shred of dignity in the instructor's heart saves Eren, who gulps a hard lump at his throat because he absolutely cannot afford to screw up in front of this guy.

Annie is another story.

'Leonhart, you brainless roach!' Shadis bellows, eyeballs threatening to bulge out of his sockets as he stares pointedly at the naked potato in her hands, 'What the hell is that?!'

She stiffens.

Shit.

She doesn't know what to do, so does nothing.

'Leonhart! You're supposed to skin the potatoes, not maul them! What the hell is this-' Shadis unceremoniously reaches into the wastebin next to her. He grasps the skins she's discarded, brings it up to her face, 'You've taken off the actual meat of it too!'

It's true. She didn't do it properly because she was pissed at Eren and needed to take it out on something.

Annie inhales sharply - she fucked up, can't get out of this one.

'Do you think we can afford to waste food around here, cadet? Do you?!'

'No, Sir.'

'Then do it right! Or I'll have you skip out on kitchen duty altogether and have you scrubbing toilets instead!'

Miraculously, he does not headbutt her. He doesn't so much as touch her, really. Just marches back out as quickly as he'd come, a dozen deep lines expressing his vexation. Although that has less to do with Annie, and more to do with the frustration he feels that he can't psychologically castrate Eren today.

The door slams shut. Annie stares at it, as though she doesn't know how to proceed after what just transpired. It's clear to Eren, who's spent over a decade familiarising himself with Mikasa's cryptic social processing, that Annie is affected by the verbal beating she's received. He can't imagine that she'd take too kindly to being called brainless, let alone a roach, no matter how cooly she tries to play it off.

Sighing, he drops his pot and makes his way over to her. She doesn't react until he takes the knife away from her, to which she flinches.

'Look,' he whispers as he slowly reaches over her side for another potato, careful not to impose on her space with his voice or body, 'You're supposed to do it like this,' he angles the potato diagonally with one hand, presses the thumb of his other onto the straight edge of the knife so that it picks up just a the tiniest bit of the brown skin, which then easily lifts. Thereafter, he secures it with the tip of the knife and gracefully starts to peel.

Annie tilts her head. 'Ah... You're surprisingly good at that.'

'I've had a lot of practice. My mom used to make me help her out in the kitchen sometimes.'

'I see.'

This was meant to only be a demo, but she doesn't make an effort to mirror him. Eren's nostrils flare. Does she expect him to do her work for her? 'Hey,' he presses, miffed, 'Grab a potato and get to it.'

'But you're so much better suited for this task than I am.'

'Oh, no.'

His temperature is rising fast - a natural occurrence around the infuriating Annie. He takes her by the wrist, pulls her to him, back-to-chest, and forcibly takes her hands in his. It's uncharacteristic how tame she is when he manipulates her arms so that they're intertwined with his, his palms nestling on the top of her hands to guide her to a knife and the potato he was working on.

'Alright, Annie— do it like I showed you.'

Do it precisely how I've taught you! That's my daughter!

Annie goes pale (not that Eren can see), and she's once more frozen in place. Green flashes dangerously until he feels her form tremble slightly. She feels fragile, soft, like something human but not quite as durable. It catches him off guard, and he nearly lets her go. He wonders if he frightens her; probably not, although the very thought that he's pushed her into dark corner breaks the chains he's manufactured around his curious attachment to her. Suddenly, he forgets why he's been so upset with her.

He chooses to believe that she's just shaken up from Shadis.

He doesn't fully buy into his own half-assed hypothesis.

Most likely, she won't tell him what's going on.

That's alright. He'll kick it with her anyway.

'Fine, forget the potato,' he whispers into her ear in as soothing a voice as he can muster. His heart is hammering against his chest; she's unpredictable and that's scary, 'Just... I'm here, OK?'

He releases her hands, so the objects she's loosely held onto fall on the table. She makes no move to pick them up, but neither does she swat his arms away. The close proximity of their bodies births a heat that burns him, and he realises the implication of the lack of distance between them.

Awkwardly, he moves to the side so he can pretend to busy himself with a potato and knife. He steals a glance at her; she’s unreadable as always.

'I'm angry with you,' she admits, breaking the silence. She tucks a long bang behind her ear. He observes her fingers; they're trembling. His attention flies back to the potato; it’s less intimidating than the uncharacteristic fragility she displays right now.

Eren swallows, 'Why's that?'

'You've been ignoring me.'

'Thought that's what you wanted, Annie.'

'No,' she smiles at him, knowing fully well that he cannot see.

#ereannie #ereani #eren x annie #eren jaeger #annie leonhardt #my stuff #enigma girl

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incoherentbabblings · 5 years

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Unspoken Promises

Sitting on the car roof waiting for Zatanna to show up, Stephanie became acutely aware of how their leaving home must have looked to the rest of the family, and makes her think about what want from the future, especially after everything had come crashing down in the aftermath of Brother Eye and the Batman of Tomorrow. Tim for once isn’t thinking too deep about it.

2,500 words on Tim and Steph cuddles from YJ #5. AO3 Link here!

So for all my doubt about Bendis (He also liked my tweet I sent him thanking him for making TimSteph so cute so like… that gave me a whump of validation right there) I was so over the moon with his interpretation of Tim and Stephanie’s relationship that it actually got me to write fanfiction for the first time in about a decade (ooft). I am following in the grand DC tradition of what is continuity in that I am writing as if the Bat’s History is all in tact, but YJ and Teen Titans is just what had been established in the New 52. How does that work? It doesn’t but never mind that I wanted to write mush

Anyway here is Tim I look at my girlfriend as if she hung the stars at night Drake and Stephanie We have 100% ran away from home which means we are 100% eloping which means yes I will marry you no you don’t even have to ask Brown.

There are like…so many references to past and current stories and dialogue in this, as well as my previous babblings on their relationship.

Anyway, enjoy!!!

He had a habit, she’d noticed, ever since they’d been together, of holding her face. His fingers had always been cold, but dry, and his palm fit neatly along her jawline. He was always soft with her, and she wouldn’t dare have it otherwise. When she isn’t talking, and he isn’t smiling and humming indulgently at her wittering on, he seemed to be nothing more than quite content to just hold and stare at her. Like the sun is infused in her hair. Like her and her alone is immune to the anti-life equation, like she is life’s meaning. Like she is so precious that she might be gone the next morning.

Because that did happen once, when she was left to die without him. Does Tim hate me? She had asked Batman. No. Bruce had replied. He adores you. Always has.

Only now with them lying on the bonnet of Tim’s red car, his stare so openly reverent, Stephanie found herself trusting Bruce’s statement to the dying girl with a broken body (and heart).

He’d been taken from her too, violently and so suddenly that she had found herself talking to a clay program of his, so starved for his face and hungry for his advice… Then again Stephanie had heard from other sources that he’d considered throwing what he’d thought was her corpse into a Lazarus Pit, so maybe they were both reliant on the other to act as a guide.

Those Batmen she’d seen, first the one from a future where she was either dead or under what seemed like permanent house arrest (it wasn’t clear), and then one made of corrupt dreams and corrupt computer programs… They were ones she’d silently promised herself that she would reel in within Tim whenever they reared their ugly, twisted heads. She’d remind him, remind them why they wanted to help people. The two of them didn’t know any other way, not anymore.

How stubborn they were that they scraped their way back to each other.

Stephanie soon grew shy being gazed at by Tim and leaned forward. One hand tightened in his sweater, whilst the other cupped the back of his head. He quickly got the idea and leaned forward, their lips touching briefly for a moment before she readjusted her position, straddling one his legs to get a firm pressure between her own.

Tim’s smile turned cheeky then, and he began to push up into a sitting position. Stephanie gave a slight grunt, and forced him back down, hand slipping down his top to grip at his hip. She kissed him deeply.

A bird took off near the car, disturbing some fallen leaves on the ground. It was still warm enough at sunset to not have to wear a coat, and both of them had opted for oversized sweaters, Steph in her customary purple, Tim in his usual green. They had been travelling for a few weeks now, enough for the new school year to have started, and yet here they both were, several states down, in DC, nowhere near Ivy University in New England. The thought made Stephanie giggle.

“Now you have to admit it!” She exclaimed, thumping her head down to rest on Tim’s chest, listening to his heart beat. Solid. Warm.

Tim meanwhile was looking awfully smug, one arm cradling her shoulders, pressing their already entangled bodies closer, the other arm thrown up behind his head. His eyes were shut, and he was smirking.

“I don’t have to admit anything.”

“Admit it!”

“I was raised by Batman, Stephanie,” – and right on que her eyes rolled up to her skull. Batman Batman Batman – “I am a stubborn master.”

“Admit we ran from home!”

That got him to open his eyes and stare at her once more. He was indulging her again, she knew, and she let him do so.

“A Batgirl and a Robin told everybody we were going off to college and then we drove the other way.”

“Because we’re in the middle of an investigation into the –”

She interrupted him, whispering the phrase “Nobody knows where we are!” conspiratorially, as if they weren’t sitting outside one of the most heavily monitored buildings in the county. But sure, they were definitely back in New England, studying at one of the country’s most prestigious universities.

Not that they didn’t leave with the purest intentions, this investigation into timelines and universes… However neither had the foggiest clue where to start. Tim had recalled Dick and Bruce talking of Wally, the idea that something or someone been messing with time or memories. To avoid Bruce catching wind of what they were up to, they had asked Black Canary, and Dinah had suggested magic, which had led them to Zatanna.

Tim knew Bruce knew they weren’t at college. He just didn’t want Bruce to know why. This trip was partially for him and Steph to be alone. Properly. Without Bruce and his weird secrets and mind games. Without the pressure of fighting crime each night with all its mental and physical traumas.

Without Cassandra bursting through their window with takeout after a night of training, catching Steph in her nightshirt and Tim with his pyjama bottoms halfway up his legs.

It had been going well, as well as could be expected of two seventeen-year olds going on a targetless road trip. Tim had enough money to his name to keep them going for more than enough time, and Stephanie didn’t want for much regardless.

Still, this trip had a purpose, and they both hoped that speaking with Zatanna would orient them in the right direction.

“I’m just saying,” Stephanie continued, now grinning back at Tim’s softening smile “The only thing missing is the circus for us to join.”

It was almost funny how their conversations always came back to their future together. They were still so young but they always spoke of what their lives would be, could be, five, ten, fifteen years down the line.

Not that the circus was a serious suggestion, but it made her point all the same. They had split off from the family back home, deliberately gaining some distance. They’d not spoken to Bruce since he’d waved them off, hearing that they’d get the official wedding invite ‘any day now’ (any day now had been going on for weeks at this point, both were afraid to enquire for an update). They’d not heard from Dick in even more time (something was going on with the Titans, on and off the field, but Tim hadn’t chased it). Damian and Jason were enigmas as usual to them (coming and going as they pleased). They’d get the odd photo and message sent from Cass and Duke and Barbara, the three of them seemed to be forming a little huddle, but for the most part, it was radio silence. Maybe Bruce had encouraged it for once. Leave them alone. Let them be teenagers. They can figure it out if they want to do the superhero gig on their own.

Or maybe that was too forgiving of an assumption of Bruce.

The other day Stephanie had been filming Tim being a dweeb, and she had muttered about making their (hypothetical) children watch this so they could be assured that their (hypothetical) father was never once cool ever. Tim had just laughed and argued that she was just as bad as he, she was only better at covering it up. He didn’t flush at the mention of children, and he didn’t call out at her statement at all. It was a quiet assumption between them, the idea of children (plural. Both had been so lonely growing up they couldn’t bear the thought of repeating their parents’ mistakes). An unspoken promise never confirmed aloud.

Seventeen years old and they were already thinking of when they’d be thirty five. Maybe one near (actual?) death experience each made them grip to that future tightly. They would have it all. They would help people until there was no longer a need for them to do so anymore, upon which they could bow out, ready to drop the double-faced world they occupied.

It had been temporary for Tim, initially. He didn’t so much as want to be Robin as he was at the only one who could be Robin.

It had been temporary for Stephanie, initially. She couldn’t let her father go on hurting people, and she was at first the only one who knew what weird, over the top schemes he’d managed to cobble together.

It was supposed to be temporary, for both of them.

I can make it all work. I can make a system that can sustain itself… After all that, I can take care of myself. Take care of us. I promise.

And yet that promise he’d made aloud, mere hours before everything had blown up in their faces – literally – had been a rude awakening that their line of work didn’t allow easy early retirements, not truly.

That was okay though, not today didn’t mean not ever, or at least, that’s what they had both told themselves at night sleeping in assorted cheap hotels. The receptionists had always given them funny looks, no doubt Tim and Stephanie probably did look like young eloping teenagers. Tim had surprised Stephanie in his reaction to their expressions, putting his foot down when affirming yes we want a double bed no not twin singles. When checking out in the morning Tim defiantly left the bed an unmade mess, as if they were a pair of rabbits who couldn’t get enough of each other, as if trying to earn that slightly disapproving look from across the counter.

She thought maybe he was tired of people giving their opinion on the two of them being together.

And ultimately, that is what they were wasn’t it? Teenage sweethearts running away from home.

And to the circus, if that’s what it came down to.

Stephanie’s buzzing phone and Zatanna’s arrival had brought an end to the feeling of joviality. Stephanie’s thoughts were being torn in two directions. She couldn’t stand the thought of her father running around doing as he pleased, and she had a sudden sharp stab of fear for her mother, but she had just reaffirmed that she was staying with Tim come hell or high water. Tim made the decision for her. He knew she wouldn’t be focused going forward unless she chased down her father, so gave the both of them a three day deadline.

“You’ll be focused and I’ll have a start.” He stated. He was dressed in his uniform, looking somehow both dashing and fragile at once. What he thought he knew had been shaken again, except for the blonde girl standing in front of him. The one who was looking at him with a slightly befuddled but still endeared smile.

“I love you Tim Drake.” She said, ignoring for a moment where they were and what he was dressed as.

There was a beat of silence. Enough to make Stephanie uncomfortable. He had usually always been the first to declare it to her. Now that she had uttered it first, he seemed at a loss on how to respond. She decided to prompt him, trying not to sound too desperate when she asked:

“Did you hear –?”

“I’m madly in love with you, Steph.” He blurted out. His smile widened until he looked overjoyed. “I was just about to tell you that. I was going to tell you I was so happy you were in my repressed memories, too, because I didn’t want – ”

A life without you was how he was going to finish his declaration before she threw herself at him, smacking a kiss on his lips, and Tim saw his world go pink for a moment.

He had been relieved that she’d been in those memories. She had to have been. She was the only one, for so long, who knew him as both Robin and Tim. The Teen Titans had asked and asked but he’d always been so reluctant to cave in, whilst part of his fear of leaving the title of Robin would mean losing Bruce and Dick and Barbara, for what possible reason could Tim Drake have to associate with them? It was different now, he was Bruce’s adopted son, so their connection could not be severed regardless of him wearing a mask or not, and he had opened up to his friends, slowly but surely.

She was still the person he wanted to be with him every step of the way. She’s never cared what title he’d held, she’d cared more about the way he held her. This was his chance though. She had always been stuck on the fringes of their generation, not having many close friends outside of Gotham. If his friends and family could become hers… he just wanted her with him every step of the way. It was selfish of him he knew, but she deserved a better family than the one she’d been born into, and he had the opportunity to give it to her.

She was gripping the front of his uniform tightly, and he was holding her shoulders. Leaning forward, he put their foreheads together with a gentle thunk. Still smiling, he reminded her of the three day deadline.

“Two days.” She pushed.

“Promise?” He looked at her, and she smiled guiltily. How many broken promises had they made to each other? How many had they kept? How many had remained unspoken, for fear of them never coming true?

“I can’t.” Stephanie exhaled unsteadily, her eyes tearing up.

He didn’t sound disappointed when he responded, “I know.” He understood. Better than anyone he understood the danger of promises and oaths.

For a brief moment she longed for them to forget responsibilities and be utterly selfish. Run away to the circus like she’s joked. Confirm every suspicious look those receptionists had given them for the past four weeks. Leave behind broken families who didn’t know what good communication meant between the lot of them and start a newer better family in its place. It was a whim that would remain in her head, but she answered the question she would sit and wait for over the next twenty years if need be out loud, as both a promise to Tim and to herself.

“…But I do.”

Tim didn’t say anything more in response, but looked up at her, his forehead still pressed to hers, and breathed a laugh. He knew what she’d meant when she’s said I do, of course he figured it out, but he also knew to let it remain out of context. Another unspoken promise.

They’d be fine. More than fine. He would find his friends and he would take care of them. They’d scraped their way back to each other for a reason. He couldn’t let her, or Conner or Cassie or Bart or any of the others, slide by any longer.

Another unspoken promise.

#dc #timsteph #tim drake #stephanie brown #this is super self-indulgent so please indulge me...#my fic tag

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