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Tim is fighting his body. The cursed thing needs sleep and he simply doesn't have the time for it. He just needs another day of being awake, he'll have the case closed by then and all the reports wrapped up. Wait, he has that investor meeting scheduled in what would be his recovery time. He can't push that back again.
Tim blinks hard, pinching the bridge of his nose. He has been up for… three, no four days now. He entirely blames the death cult that had entered Gotham. If those bitches had just waited like a week to start shit he would have been fine, but no! Zatanna is off-world and Constantine has a curse on him that won't let him leave the house of mysteries, much less enter Gotham. Luckily, he can still call to get advice from both.
He can feel himself slipping into sleep like he can't fucking do. He snaps his eyes open and grabs for his 9th cup of coffee, only to find it empty.
…
Fuck it! If this is how he has to live right now, he's gonna fucking change it! He can dabble with eldritch beings beyond comprehension too—and do it even better!
The cult wasn't even up to date on what they were trying to summon. Unlike Tim, who just so happens to have gotten his hands on the instructions for the right summoning ritual for the Ghost King and was about to fucking use it.
He gets up from the Batcomputer and heads up to the kitchen to grab the supplies he needs. He was lucky Alfred was out grabbing groceries, otherwise he would have never been able to get anywhere near the older man's kitchen. He takes the leftover Alfredo from the fridge and puts it into a small pot to warm on the stove. All he needs now is to grab silver and gold sharpies, a small candle, and one of the giant rolls of paper he used to draft blueprints. If he was at his apartment he would just draw it on the floor, but he's not risking any more of Alfred's disappointment and wrath today.
He checks on the pasta, seeing that it's warm enough, then he prepares two bowls. If he was making a meal for an occult being he sure as hell was getting some himself.
He puts the food aside and works on drawing the array in silver and gold. After he finished the center of the array he couldn't help but feel that it looked strangely familiar. Not that he has seen this exact array before this whole mess, but by the fact it looks like some type of writing he's seen… Holy fuck it's Gallifreyan. What kind of nerd is the ghost king if they are using Gallifreyan as their summoning array?
He shakes his head. He needs to focus and finish adding the symbols on the outside of the Gallifreyan. He looks back at the instructions to make sure he was copying it correctly when he spots it. The last bit of this array is the First Ones language from She-ra. Tim has decided this is fine, and he just won't think about it.
He was thinking about it.
Why was this summoning like this? No wonder the death cult doesn't have the right fucking summoning. Who in their right mind would think an extradimensional death deity would have their array be made out of fake fucking languages from different TV shows. He has so many questions that he doesn't have time for.
Tim takes a deep breath, clearing his mind the best he can. He just needs to get through this, ignore the fact that whoever set up the summoning ritual is a giant fucking nerd. He reads the next set of instructions. . .
He is going insane, he is fucking sure of it.
The fucking instructions say that the array is in several different languages and that to finish the summoning he needs to translate. He then needs to say it out loud, starting from the outside going in. Looks like he'll need to break out the First One’s translator he has saved on his phone. Luckily, he has Gallifreyan memorized (for the most part).
Tim sets the offering in the middle of the array, placing his own bowl on the floor next to him. He takes a deep breath. The translations weigh heavy on the tip of his tongue, despite how ridiculous all of this is. Now he just has to hold back his giggles.
“Pluto is a planet. Get fucked, losers.'' As the words enter the air the summoning circle grows a lazarus green. After a couple curious moments there's a popping noise, as if someone opened a wine bottle, and there is a figure sitting across from him.
The figure is a humanoid male with short, shaggy white hair that blows in a nonexistent wind. Their long legs are crossed as they hover a few inches from the floor. The clothes weren't too strange, just a black tight fitting jumpsuit with gray accents. It showed off their lean muscles, which Tim shouldn’t be focusing on. He has a deal to make!!
Their burring green eyes gaze around the room before landing on the offered food. Their face lights up with a fanged grin. The other’s excitement was almost contagious as they start eating. Tim follows the other’s lead and dings in himself. God, Alfred’s cooking is so good.
“Oh, fuck yeah!! I was craving alfredo!” They say around a mouth full of food.
“I’m glad it was something you like. I was worried that you’d hate it and this whole thing wouldn’t work,” Tim’s voice seemed to snap the being to full attention.
“Shit. Sorry about getting distracted there. You summoned me?”
“Yeah, I want to make a deal to-”
“Okay wait,” the white haired being interrupted. “Before we get into this I have to place some ground rules.”
“Of course.” Tim expected this, Nothing came without compilation after all.
“Good, first I am allowed to deny any request and or offering. Second, all deals are final once fulfilled. Finally, anything relating to the manipulation of time is off limits. I’m still cleaning up from the last time I did one, and I’d just rather not deal with that,” the other said while gesturing with his hands almost spilling his bowl.
“Is that all?” Tim asked skeptically.
“Yep! You can make your request now.”
“I want to not have to sleep ever again. I need to make myself clear with you on this, I still want to have the ability to sleep but for it to not be something that I need to do to live healthy,” Tim stares the (presumed) ghost in the eyes, waiting for their response.
“Oh, that’ll be no problem, but what will you offer in return?” They stare back at him, burning green into his soul.
Something in Tim knows that the king wouldn’t accept his soul as an offering. After all, they didn’t even ask for any blood in their summoning, why would they want something like that now. He has to think of something different and quick, Alfred should be home soon. He should have moved this out of the kitchen… Wait.
He has an idea.
“How about in return, I take you out to get food? It can be from anywhere you want in the whole world, just give me time to set up reservations.” Tim offers, hoping that’ll work.
“And you’ll be paying,” the other asks with a raised eyebrow and soft grin.
“Of course!”
“Deal!! It’s a date,” Tim blinks a couple times before the meaning of the other’s statement fully hits him
“Oh! Yeah it is. I’m Tim.” He offers out his hand.
“You can call me Danny. To most I'm High King Phantom—but you know that.” Danny banters, taking Tim’s hand.
Their hands are bathed in green flames that warm Tim’s hands pleasantly. The deal has been struck, and Tim can’t help but notice the nervous excitement coming off the other man.
Tim likes him more already.