Chapter Text
Tim wakes up on the morning of his twelfth birthday to a ring on his bedside table. He groans and lifts himself up on his arms, yawning loudly and rubbing at his eyes. His hair is mussed from sleep and he's still chasing the feeling of his last-very pleasant-dream.
The ring remains, sparkling green in the mid-morning light, surrounded by a bed of tiny white diamonds, and it’s the most beautiful thing Tim has ever seen. There's no question who's it from, but he appreciates it just the same. He can freely admit that Tim had been hurt when the news of his parents continued absence had reached his inbox. They'd promised to return for his birthday, but this was neither the first nor the last time they broke such a promise. It made the attention Damian bestowed upon him all the more precious.
(The fact that Damian must've slipped in at some point in the night and probably watched him sleep, bothered him much less than it probably should. They had slept in the same room-the same bed-often enough, that he knew the other could only really find peace after he made sure Tim was fine. In fact, it was sort of adorable how protective Damian was of him.)
Scooting to the edge of the bed, he swung his feet off the mattress, the cold floor underneath his soles waking him up ever so slightly.
The ring box was just as beautiful as the ring itself, sturdy and green, made of velvet and filled with silk. He lifted the ring and put it on his finger. It fit perfectly of course. He expected nothing less from someone like Damian. Tim admired the ring that gleamed fantastically whenever he turned his finger.
His short pajamas, consisting of Batman boxers and one of Damians stolen shirts (which originally belonged to Dick) didn't really fit the style of the elegant ring, but Tim didn't care and Damian wouldn't either.
Tim had first met the elusive Wayne heir at a ball in the town-hall hosted by a newly elected and overly motivated mayor. The food was fancy, the suits stuffy and Tim was bored. His parents had insisted that he needed to come along, but it seemed nobody else brought their children. The champagne was flowing and the shrill laughter of dozens of socialites was quickly giving Tim a headache. His mom had sent him away to let the adults talk freely amongst themselves half an hour ago and he had been wandering around aimlessly ever since. Despite his thorough experience with events just like this, they never got any easier to handle.
The boredom lasted until he spotted Damian. He was cowering behind a tall plant in the corner and looked for all the world as if he was currently being tortured.
(Now Tim knew that Damian actually looked much more relaxed during torture than he did socializing)
Tim was by no means an extrovert, but he did lack any sort of social experience that would tell him that it wasn't a good idea to approach. Excited to see another young face, he practically skipped towards the corner and held out his hand, just like he'd seen his mom do a million times.
Startlingly green eyes glared up at him and Tim watched him expectantly.
"Hi! I'm Timothy Drake, what's your name?“
Slowly, Damian rose, even then already half a head taller than Tim. Carefully, he reached out and shook his hand, eyes never once leaving his face.
"My name is Damian al-Ghul Wayne"
Tm left his face carefully blank, showing no indication that he was about to vibrate out of his skin. This was Batman's son! Batman. (and looking back, Tim definitely had a crush on Damian, his pretty pretty eyes, and smooth dark skin constantly stuck on his mind)
They shook, once, twice and let go. "A… pleasure to make your acquaintance" Damian said, voice slow and words deliberate. Tim got the sense that Damian didn't talk a lot, especially not to other children.
"Do you wanna go and steal some of those crackers? They had them at the Christmas party and they were really good" Tim suggested and Damian nodded sharply.
"I would not be opposed to that. The food has been lackluster so far"
Tim snorted. "Yeah, it totally sucks! Don't tell my mom I said that though" he added hastily.
That's how they ended up underneath the buffet table, eating a plate of-vegetarian-crackers, sharing observations about the many guests that came and went. Tim had never noticed how many stupid shoes people wore until Damian pointed it out. Many of the woman could barely walk in their heels and the men all seemed to have squeaky soles.
The longer they sat together the more Damian opened up and by the end of the night Tim had laughed himself silly. Damian watched him with a similar grin and more love in his eyes than should be possible for a ten year old.
They were rather rudely interrupted when Janet announced it was time to go and pulled Tim out from underneath the table. How she knew where he was hiding, he couldn't possibly fathom, but his mom was just like that. He waved goodbye to Damian all the way out the door.
"I have found my beloved" Damian announces over breakfast the next morning. Bruce nearly chokes on his oatmeal. "What makes you say that?"
"I am an al Ghul, we just know." Bruce's ten year old son said and Bruce stared helplessly at Alfred. The butler hadn't stopped his movement once, still busying himself with dusting the dining room. He was on his own.
"And who do you think your beloved is?"
“Timothy Jackson Drake. I believe you know his mother?" Of all the people Bruce had envisioned as a partner for his son-and let it be known, he'd done his very best to push those thoughts to the very back of his mind-Timothy Drake had not been one of them.
"Hn" he replied. He didn't like Janet Drake, per se, but Timmy did seem like a lovely young boy. If he'd inherited his mothers sharp intellect, he'd be a force to be reckoned with in the future. He supposed the boy had a pretty face.
"You approve?" Damians gaze had always been unnerving in its focus, but today he bore far more resemblance to his mother than Bruce liked.
"You will have to introduce us" He said, because he thinks that's what a more well-adjusted parent would've do.
"Of course" Damian bowed his head. "Pennyworth, how do you suppose I could send a letter to mother?" Bruce really did choke then.
"Why… why do you wanna do that?"
"I require access to the family jewels of course. And Timothy requires a more fitting wardrobe."
Why had Bruce ever thought it would be a good idea to procreate with Talia? He was sure this was some form of retaliatory punishment from the universe.
"Have you asked Tim about that, chum? He might not want new clothes."
"Tsk. I'm sure he would be amicable. I shall ask him next time we meet."
Alfred just kept on dusting and for once, bruce was incredibly jealous of him.
--
Talia approved whole-heartedly of Timothy Drake. Once she received news from her son, she sent out some spies to observe both Timothy and his family. The boy was waif-ish but pretty and was smart enough to follow Batman on patrol, a feet most grown adults had yet to achieve. His parents, though undoubtedly neglectful, even for her standards, were smart businessmen and Timothy was set to inherit a fortune of his own, thus limiting the possibility of being a gold digger. Above all else however, she was happy that her son had found love in some manner of speaking. She did worry for her child. And there was the added perk of it endlessly annoying her beloved.
She gladly sent over a few fine silk garbs and a necklace from one of her fathers concubines. (She never said she was a nice woman, did she?)
They have what Alfred calls "a playdate" once a week at the very least, which isn't difficult to arrange since Timothy seemingly lacked a nanny. He was bright, nice boy, and Alfred did wonder what he could've possibly done to be so favored by his youngest master. He practically worshipped the ground Tim walked on.
It was refreshing to see. He had worried severely about his lack of friends but it seemed he shouldn't have bothered. Damian was able to make friends. (He chuckled, fondly replaying the memory of Damian calling Timothy his beloved.)
Timothy was a nice boy, he had to admit. Maybe a bit timid and quiet but otherwise lively and proper. He was a good influence for the young master, someone to mellow him out a bit.
Damian becomes what is commonly known as Shadow, a week after he turns twelve. Truthfully, he could've been Batman's ally from the start, his training within the league more than adequate, but Bruce had been hesitant. He didn't like to admit his own faults, and the fact that he could truly need a teenaged sidekick was hard to admit. It wasn't that-disputed-fact that finally convinced him, though, and rather that Damian needed it. One too many school-yard bully had landed in the hospital after daring to touch Tim. Clearly, the boy needed an out.
And so, a suit was made and a new hero roamed the streets of Gotham.