Work Text:
Tim's phone vibrated on the counter, shattering his concentration.
He nearly dropped the plate he was holding as he lunged for his phone, heart leaping into his throat when he saw the notification from his doorman. A visitor was coming up to his floor. Which meant Tim had less than two minutes to finish setting the table. To light the candles and fold the napkins and run through his plan one final time.
His plan for dinner.
Dinner with Danny.
One Tim had taken incredible care in crafting, from the chosen cuisine to the wine glasses to the fucking flatware.
Because tonight?
Tonight Tim was going to tell Danny that he knew. That after an obsessive multi-day spiral, he fit together a pair of puzzle pieces he didn't mean to stumbled into. Had connected a selection of dots Danny tried his fucking best to cover up. Had pried open the closet that hid all of Danny's skeletons.
Or, more accurately, his ghosts.
So Tim sped through straightening out the table, lighting candle wicks, and muscling the napkins into acceptable designs, all the while ignoring how much he was sweating beneath his dress shirt.
Maybe he should've went with something less formal. Something that didn't involve a chilled bottle of wine and dish warmers. But it was too late to pivot now—too late to retreat and restrategize and—
A knock yoinked Tim out of his brief spiral, and a second later he was tugging the door open.
And. Well.
There Danny was. Dark hair a perfect, windswept mess. Eyes as blue as ever. And his smile?
Fuck.
Tim was in trouble.
"Hey," Danny said, leaning down to peck him on the cheek before sweeping inside. "You would not believe traffic today. Or the lack of it? I swear I got here in record time and…" He trailed off as he took in the catering bags on the kitchen island. The tablecloth draped over the dining table he knew Tim rarely used.
And then he was looking Tim over, brow furrowed as he scrutinized his slacks and button down sporting his monogramed cufflinks.
Oh fuck.
Yeah, Tim definitely overdid it.
"…is it our sixth month anniversary or something?" Danny asked slowly as Tim locked the door.
"No," he said, trying to be as casual as possible. "I just thought it'd been a while since we had a nice dinner date."
"Okay?" Danny said, glancing back at the fully decked out table. "So was getting Bat Burger last weekend not nice? Or a date?"
"No! No, it was," Tim said quickly, heading over to the table. "It was great. I just thought…" He trailed off, hand over his eyes. God, not even two minutes in and his plan was falling apart. "It'd been a minute since we did something more private."
"Oh, private." Danny shrugged off his coat, throwing it onto the kitchen counter and then drew closer to Tim with that mischievous smile of his. "You know we don't need a fancy dinner for that, babe."
Heat crept up the back of Tim's neck.
"True," he said, ignoring how perfect the weight of Danny's hands felt on his waist, and how his thumbs were rubbing delicious circles into the fabric of his shirt. "But that doesn't mean we don't deserve one."
"Fair enough." Danny gave him a kiss. Soft and sweet and fuck Tim wished he didn't have an ulterior motive for the evening. Wished that they could just enjoy each other's company while shoveling five-star steak tartare into their mouths.
But this was something he couldn't put off for much longer. He couldn't lie—couldn't pretend he didn't know that Danny was… Was…
Tim exhaled as he led them to the table.
Dinner first. He could do this. All he had to do was act, well, not natural, but something adjacent to it. A feat he had a little too much practice with over the years.
So that's what he focused on. Through serving their courses and refilling their glasses, wearing what he hoped was a casual smile.
Until dessert rolled around.
That's when it was time for Tim to enact part two of his plan. The part where it was time to talk about his findings and hope to fucking god he was stringing together the right words.
Tim took a breath as he stared at Danny, who was happily enjoying his slice of rich chocolate cake.
"Hey, Danny?"
Danny glanced up, a 'hm' on his lips.
“I-I need to talk to you about something.”
"Okay?"
"It's…" Tim hesitated, trying to recall the script he'd developed. "It's important."
Danny paused, eyes darting from the lit candles to the near empty bottle of wine only to land back on Tim with a furrowed brow. Waiting. Silently.
Fuck.
"Danny." Eye contact maintained. "I know."
"…know what?"
"About Phantom," Tim said, heart pounding in his chest.
Danny's eye twitched at the name. Small and quick, but Tim's Bat-training made the movement near impossible to miss.
"What?"
Tim took another breath, setting down his own fork.
"I know about Phantom."
"I mean, who doesn't?" Danny said as he straightened out in his seat. His eye contact slipped and fuck Tim could tell he was nervous. "He's out there. In the sky. Sometimes. Hard to miss him. Just another crazy thing that happens in Gotham, am I right?"
Oh god, he was deflecting.
"No, Danny. I know." Tim leaned into his words, hands on the table. Calm and collected. Just like he's practiced. "I know about you."
"You… what?” Static tinged the edges of Danny’s voice and Tim blinked, taking in how large Danny's eyes had become. How they'd snapped back to his, making his pulse leap.
Tim swallowed, moistening his lips.
“Phantom,” he repeated, voice level. “I know.”
Danny was quiet, body stock still. Staring. Until he exhaled. Deep and steady.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about."
Tim gaped, jaw nearly dropping. He'd considering being gaslit, but didn't think Danny would go that route. Didn't think he'd try to deny everything so quickly.
"I think you do," Tim tried, ready to bust out the facts he'd unearted. "I think you know exactly what I'm talking about."
"I don't—"
“You do,” Tim cut him off, scooting slightly closer. “Danny, I know your name. The one you were born with. I know about the town where you grew up and lived before you moved to Gotham. And I know about your parents' profession and—"
Danny was on his feet before Tim could even finish. Chair pushed back, hands in his hair. He stood still with his back to him—practically frozen—to the point that Tim didn't even think Danny was breathing anymore. Didn't think that he was using any air to keep himself upright.
Because he didn’t need to. Not really.
The dead didn't need to breathe.
Tim's stomach flipped at that realization as he carefully slid his chair back, trying his best not to rattle Danny. To startle him more than he already was.
"It's okay," Tim said gently, attempting to approach him with open palms. As if he were a fucking spooked horse. "Danny, it's okay. I—"
"You weren't supposed to—" Danny's voice was thin as it cracked. "You weren't supposed to find out. Not like this."
Tim blinked, hands dropping as the weight of Danny's words smacked him.
"You were going to tell me?"
"I-I—" Danny cut himself off, hissing a harsh 'fuck'. A second later he was pacing around the kitchen, hands dragging over his face. "I was going to. If things kept going well between us. Eventually." He paused for a second, glancing at Tim for the first time since he'd pushed his chair back from the table.
And Tim…
Tim froze, swallowing whatever response was brewing on his tongue. Because Danny's eyes were wide. Wild.
Fuck.
Tim could diffuse this. Hell, he'd built bombs, he could pull them apart. Talking down his boyfriend had to be similar. Right?
But before Tim could get a single word out, Danny slammed to a halt on the other side of the kitchen, hands settling on the counter.
"How did you find out?" he asked, eye contact strong as he searched Tim's face for an explanation. "I need to know how you found out."
Oh fuck.
Tim had considered Danny's possible reactions. Surprise. Betrayal. Anger.
But fear was not one of them, even though it should have been, given everything Tim learned during his obsessive investigation.
Because someone was after him.
No, not a someone, a whole government agency. One Tim had seen in his research—had noted each time the fucking name popped up.
The Ghost Investigation Ward. Secretive, yet not as small or harmless as they seemed.
And they were desperate to get their gloved hands on Phantom.
Phantom, who was Danny.
Danny, who was staring at Tim, eyes big and blue and terrified, as much as he tried to wrestle his expression into something neutral.
“Tim,” Danny tried again after Tim failed to respond, too caught up in his head. In the fact that is plan for a gentle yet informative conversation had unraveled so fucking quickly. “I’ll answer whatever questions you have. I’ll even show you, or leave you alone and delete your number. Anything you want. But you have to tell me—“
“I’m Red Robin.” It came out in a rush that left Tim's throat dry. Left Danny blinking as he cocked his head, brow furrowed.
“You—you what?”
“I’m Red Robin,” Tim repeated, abandoning part two of his plan and going straight to part four. The part where he leveled the playing field—shared a secret of his own to try to set Danny at ease. “That’s how I found out.”
“You-your…” Danny trailed off, staring at Tim with an open mouth. “What do you mean ‘that’s how you found out’?”
“I’m a detective. A fucking good one.” He swept his hands through his hair, ready to explain himself. “Earlier this week you were favoring your left side. Limping. And when I asked about it you said you tripped. Fell down the stairs. Except…" Tim trailed off, huffing, before meeting his eyes again. "Danny, I'd never see you trip before. Or stumble. Or even stub your fucking toe. So the likelihood that you were lying to me was too strong for me to ignore. And I tried to—I fucking promise you I tried not to stalk the shit out of you. But before I knew it I was hacking cameras and transcripts and hospital records—"
“Hospital records?” Danny repeated.
Tim groaned and buried his face in his palms, trying to smother his fucking shame.
“It took four days to make the connection,” he mumbled into his hands. Four days to get from Danny to Phantom.
Four days in which Tim's mind was blown over and over again. Until it was obliterabed. To fucking smithereens.
When he finally glanced up again Danny’s mouth was hanging open, blue eyes wide. Staring.
“Only four days,” he whispered.
“Technically nights, too,” Tim said, and got the sense that detail didn't help at all.
“No,” Danny finally decided after a few seconds of continued staring. “You-you can't be Red Robin. I would've known it I was dating—"
"Gotham's favorite Bird?" Tim joked in a lame attempt to lighten the mood.
Somehow through all the shock, Danny managed to snort.
"Nightwing is Gotham's favorite Bird."
"Says who?"
"Says everyone."
"What?" Tim blinked. "Wait, don't tell me Nightwing is your favorite vigilante."
Danny gave Tim a smile, pairing it with a subtle head tilt that made Tim's jaw drop.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Tim asked and then motioned to himself. "What does he have that Red Robin doesn't?"
"I-I don't know!" Danny said. "Those little throw-y things?"
"We all have those!"
Proving his point, Tim yanked open a shallow kitchen drawer and grabbed one of his emergency Wing Dings hidden within. It clinked against the granite as he chucked it across the island, skidding to a stop in front of Danny, who’s mouth had dropped open once again.
"…well I didn't know that."
Tim closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling. He was getting off track, wasn't he. Letting his emotions leak too much into the conversation—
"I guess Red Robin could be my new favorite, though."
Tim's eyes snapped back to Danny, staring at him as he inspected the Wing Ding, taking in it's painted body and sharp edges.
"You guess?"
Danny shrugged, lips twitching into a smug smile.
"I mean, his suit is cool. But not as cool as Nightwing's."
Tim's brain stuttered for a second. "You're fucking with me."
Danny's eyes lit up, glinting mischievously.
"Blue is my favorite color, you know."
"No it's not," Tim shot back. He sifted through his mental encyclopedia for a second before motioning to himself. "Red. Red is your favorite color."
"Maybe I should change it." Danny leaned against the island, picking up the Wing Ding and twisting it in his hands. "To better support my favorite vigilante."
Tim mirrored Danny's stance, leaning against the opposite side of the island.
"I can't believe you're fucking with me right now." Off topic. They were so off topic.
"Me?" Danny put a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I would never fuck with you. I'm just a lil guy, gushing about how cool it is to see Nightwing flipping through the sky."
"I can flip, too, you know."
"I didn't say you couldn't," Danny said, smile turning impish. "I just said that his were cool. Especially when he's holding his little staff things. Cool as fuck."
Tim blinked. Was Danny trying to bait him? Because if he was…
It was working. Too fucking well.
A second later Tim was yanking open another drawer and grabbing his collapsible bo staff. In a flash he had it snapped to full length, twisting it behind his back with a flourish before propelling himself up onto the kitchen island, sliding across the granite while swinging his staff towards Danny.
Danny ducked, stepping back from the island as Tim leapt off it, staff twisting in his grip before rolling into an offensive stance on the floor.
He didn't wait for Danny to reset. Didn't wait for whatever snarky reply was brewing on his lips. Instead, Tim rushed forward, staff singing through the air.
Danny laughed as he danced backwards, narrowly dodging one of Tim's swings. Fast and fluid—as if he could anticipate Tim's action—and spun just far enough out of his range. Which had Tim advancing after him, readjusting his grip for a different approach.
He twisted his staff with another flourish as he manuevered Danny back against the couch. Pinning him in place.
Or so he thought.
Because one second Tim had Danny exactly where he wanted him, and the next… The next…
"You're cheating," Tim huffed between breaths as he watched Danny step backwards through the couch. As if was made of nothing more than mist and a wink.
"It's not cheating if I'm using what I've got," Danny laughed, and Tim blinked.
Fuck.
That was right. Danny was Phantom. And Phantom had powers. A whole suite of them at his finger tips. Powers that, apparently, he could use in his human form just as much as he could in his ghostly one.
Laying a hit on Danny was going to be harder than Tim anticipated. But not impossible. Which only made the gears in his head grind harder, searching for openings as they vaulted furniture to the soundtrack of Danny's laughter. Loud and vibrant, as Tim tried different advances—different approaches—until a calculated sweep to Danny's ankle had him down on one knee.
Danny's laughter faded as he stared up at Tim from the floor.
And Tim? Well, he couldn't resist.
"Am I cool enough for you now?" he whispered between breaths. Voice low, bo staff prodding Danny's chest as he leaned in closer. Hovering over Danny as his mouth quirked and eyes sparked and—
Tim didn’t know if his grip faltered or if Danny ripped it from his hands, but one second his bo staff was between them and the next it was clattering to the floor while Danny reached for Tim. And then they were kissing. Mouths clashing, chests still heaving as they cupped each other's faces. Absolutely unable to get enough of each other.
At some point Tim’s back hit the kitchen island, and Danny lifted him up onto it like he weighed nothing. A part of Tim wanted to protest at being picked up, but the extra height was so good—because now he could kiss Danny's neck and tug on his ear with his teeth and—
A sound left the back of Danny’s throat. Breathy and high and fuck Tim was into this.
Into Danny.
Who was Phantom.
Who had one hand in Tim’s hair while the other gripped the back of his thigh, guiding him to the edge of the counter. Knees apart, gut twisting.
And then Tim was yanking at Danny’s tee, needing it off while Danny worked his way down Tim’s shirt, undoing button after button.
“Why are there so many of these?” Danny laughed, the question tickling the side of Tim’s neck between kisses. And Tim—glancing down to see Danny only half of the way done—realized that he was right. There were far too many buttons, and it was taking too long.
Tim removed Danny’s hands, grabbed both sides of his dress shirt and yanked. Buttons tore free of the fabric, hitting the counter and rolling off the edge to smack the floor in a hushed pitter-patter.
Danny blinked, eyes big and blue as he stared at Tim's exposed chest.
“Well, fuck me, then,” he breathed, smile wider than Tim had ever seen before, revealing fangs he’d never noticed and—
Oh fucking god.
Tim was going to need to buy a fuck ton more concealer, wasn’t he. And foundation. The full coverage kind.
“I will if you want me to,” Tim shot back, shrugging out of his ruined shirt. He tossed it somewhere behind him and reached for Danny. Because oh god he needed his tongue to do that fucking thing again.
“Oh, fuck, I want you to,” Danny rasped, mouth moving against his, and Tim immediately started calculating the quickest route to the bedroom. “But—“
“But?” Tim pulled back, mind screeching to a halt and hands pausing midway down Danny’s torso. Because consent was everything, and if Danny was second guessing things then they needed to stop right the fuck now.
“We didn’t finish talking about…“ Danny trailed off, short-winded, motioning to himself and then to Tim. “About me. About you.”
“We can talk,” Tim said, forcing his hands away from Danny’s cool skin as he tried to pull himself back to a point where he could actually have a conversation. “If that’s what you want to do right now.”
Danny’s eyes flashed, and Tim swore they were green for a split second.
“I could think of a few other things I’d rather be doing right now.” His voice was low, palms planted on either side of Tim’s hips. Face close, lips ghosting Tim’s and fuck how was he supposed to focus on anything other than how good Danny tasted and how tight his pants had become?
“Me too.” Tim dragged his fingers through Danny’s dark hair, feeling the huff of his breath as Danny leaned in, making contact again.
“Okay,” he said into Tim’s mouth. “We’ll talk after.”
“About everything,” Tim promised, kissing his way down Danny’s neck. “We’ll compare scars and origin stories and I’ll explain in great detail how I figured it out. And then I’ll fucking bury it all properly so nobody else can.”
Danny laughed, chest rumbling as his teeth scraped along Tim’s collarbone, and Tim practically moaned.
“I already had the best hacker I know do what he could.”
“I’m better,” Tim said into his shoulder and felt Danny shudder as he dragged his hands down down down his back.
“Cocky, aren’t we?” Danny’s hands steadied below Tim’s navel, thumbs dipping under his waistband and rubbing the skin beneath. “How would you do it?”
“The dates,” Tim said between pants. Because Danny was kissing his way down his torso, and between his mouth and his moving fingers oh fuck he was having trouble thinking straight. Or gay. Whatever. “No dates, no timeline.”
“Smart,” Danny murmured, undoing Tim’s belt and his pants and fuck what were they talking about again?
Dates.
Right.
They were talking about Tim destroying any digital connection between Daniel Fenton, Danny Nightingale, and Phantom, the King of the Infinite Realms and Ancient of Space.
Because they were all one and the same.
Danny was Phantom. Phantom was Danny.
The same Danny who was drawing a series of keens from Tim’s lips because oh god he knew how to use his fucking hands. And Tim physically couldn’t do anything but lean into it, kissing Danny faster and harder until he was biting his lip, fingers fumbling with the clasp on Danny’s pants because fuck this went both ways and—
“Still want to fuck me?” It came almost as a growl—deep and staticky—and it took Tim a hot second to realize Danny had spoken with a different voice. Phantom’s voice. And Tim…
“Yes,” he bit out between huffs and kisses and oh god he was so into this. “Y-yes. Yes.”
Danny’s smile widened, blue eyes sparking as all his sharp teeth were finally on display.
“Here… or… the bedroom?” Again, in Phantom’s voice. The one that split the night—not meant for the ears of the living. And yet, here it was, in Tim’s kitchen, vibrating against the windows and punched with gasps. Because Tim had his hand down Danny's pants, stroking his arousal in a rhythm that matched Danny's own ministrations.
“Wherever you want.”
Danny laughed, forehead pressed against Tim’s, his puffs grazing his skin.
“Why don’t… we relocate,” he said, and Tim felt the suggestion run down his spine. Cool and icy, yet fucking electric. “Get a little more… comfortable.”
Tim agreed in a haze, prepared to hop off the kitchen island and drag Danny towards the bedroom. But before he could even withdraw, he was falling onto his back into the plush of his comforter with Danny grinning deviously above to him.
Tim blinked, mind whirring.
“How did we…” He stopped, swallowing his question whole when he noticed the shadows now caressing Danny's figure. The ones that stretched his familiar soft features into sharp, long lines that made Tim's mouth run dry and his body tense involuntarily.
Otherworldly green sparks tinged the air around him, framing him in a spectral glow. The same green that now pooled in his normally blue eyes, vivid and impish and—
"Oh, fuck," Tim breathed, brain overheating with the answer to his own question.
Danny portaled them. Straight to Tim’s bedroom.
Because that was something he could do—something Phantom could do.
Danny could rip a hole right through the fabric of reality to get them from point A to point B as fast as possible. Whenever and wherever he wanted.
And fuck if Tim wasn’t fucking living for it.
Something in Danny's expression changed as Tim's brain rebooted and he pulled back, some of the shadows receeding as the green bled from his eyes. Back to a familiar blue Tim was so used to getting lost in.
“Is… Was that too much?” Danny's smile was gone now, voice back to normal. His eyes searched Tim for a sign that he'd crossed the line. That he peeled back the curtain and revealed too much too quickly.
And Tim? He wanted to suck that thought right out of Danny's head.
“Fuck, no,” Tim insisted, grabbing at the back of his neck as he leaned up to crush their mouths together again.
“Okay,” Danny said, and Tim could feel him relax back into the moment. Back into their kiss as he melted, his thumb skimming his jaw before his hand slid down his neck, fingers leaving a cool trail that made Tim's pulse leap. “Just tell me if anything gets too weird or—“
Tim cut him off as he hooked a leg behind Danny's knee, pulling him into the comforter with him. Danny made a noise Tim wanted to swallow whole as he flopped down beside him, surprise resurrecting his smile and igniting his freckles and—
Tim's brain short-circuted, edges fraying. He didn't even know Danny could do that. Could shine like he was his own personal constellation. And now that he knew…
Oh, Tim was going to enjoy figuring out exactly what triggered him to glow like that. Thoroughly.
“You are so fucking…” Tim trailed off, too busy with kicking off his pants and helping Danny out of his.
Danny let out a breathy, “Irresistibly sexy?” as Tim's gaze wandered down down down. Past his well defined chest and abs to his dick that was already erect between his legs.
“That,” Tim agreed, because who really needed words, anyway? Especially when Danny was there, crashing into him again with his eager mouth and his big blue eyes and his hand that was rubbing up and down Tim's length and—
Fuck did Danny's hand feel good. So, so fucking good.
"Def… definitely the sexy part," Tim mumbled, tripping over his words, because Danny might actually being trying to fucking kill him with the way he was stroking his dick.
"Not irresistible?" Danny laughed, giving him a squeeze while his impossible teeth nipped at his ear.
And Tim?
Tim closed his eyes as he honest to god moaned, head lolling forward into Danny’s shoulder. He felt Danny rumble next to him, his laugh catching as Tim pushed him onto his back and began trailing kisses down his neck. His chest. His stomach.
Until Danny was forced to let go of Tim's dick as he dove lower still, kissing his way down Danny's shaft.
Tim smiled as a soft 'fuck' left Danny's throat, and glanced up to see him arc. Head tipped back and lips parted and eyes closed and—
"Fuck," he gasped again, and Tim felt him twitch as he took Danny deep into his mouth. Over and over again. Slowly. For him to savor.
His hand wandered as he built up a rhythm, sliding along Danny's skin, marveling at how cool he stayed. How even as his fingers circled his navel—which sparked a delicious moan—and skimmed across his stomach, Danny never heated up. Didn't break a sweat as Tim explored higher, thumbing one of his nipples before pausing over his heart that… that…
…wasn't beating.
Danny's heart wasn't pounding in his chest like Tim's was, even though Tim could feel him breathing beneath him—could hear him keening and muttering a slew of pleasant curses as he rolled his hips each time Tim took him deeper.
Tim slowed even as Danny kept moving, his eyes locked on the cut of his jaw. He pressed his palm harder against where Tim knew his heart should be practically leaping out of his chest. Hoping to feel something. A stutter. A kick.
But instead, there was nothing.
Nothing at all.
Tim pulled off Danny's dick—ignoring his disappointed groan—and pushed up onto an arm just as Danny glanced down, blue eyes glazed over.
"Why'd you stop?" he asked between huffs, brow furrowed.
"I can't feel your heart beating."
"Oh." Danny's head fell back as he swept a hand through his dark hair, releasing a soft snort. As if they were having the most casual conversation in the world. "That's because it stopped. It does that sometimes."
Tim stared, brain crashing yet again.
It does that sometimes.
Of fucking course it did.
Tim thought he'd figured Danny out months ago. Figured out how he liked to be touched and held and handled. But he was quickly realizing there was so much more to him that he didn't know. So much about Phantom that he still had yet to uncover. To expose.
To explore.
And fuck if Tim wasn't eager to learn everything he could.
“What else do you do?” Tim asked and caught a dangerous glint flash across Danny’s expression as he pushed up to his elbows.
“What do you want me to do?” Phantom’s voice was back, crackling beneath Tim’s skin and oh fucking god. He was going to melt. Was going to straight up cease to exist.
Danny was going to fucking kill him with that fucking smirk on that fucking mouth of his.
And if Tim was going down? Well, then he’d take Danny down with him.
Threading an arm beneath one of Danny’s legs, Tim lifted, cognizant of how Danny’s breath hitched as he dragged him towards the edge of the bed. Because Tim wanted a better position. He wanted leverage. He wanted—
“I want you to tell me what you want," Tim said.
Danny's eyes lit up instantly, more green than blue. His toothy grin widened into something absolutely feral as his stare raked down Tim's naked chest, past all the scars and healed tissue until he was staring at Tim's dick.
"I want you to fuck me," Danny said, gaze flicking back up to make eye contact.
Tim smiled, straddling Danny's hips, pulse jumping as he twitched beneath him.
"When?" he asked, closing his eyes as he started stroking himself hard, his other hand flush against where Danny's heart should've been beating but wasn't. And fuck if it wasn't making Tim's heart pound enough for the both of them.
"Now," Danny groaned, grabbing Tim's hips and grinding up into him. "Right fucking now."
Tim snickered and leaned down to give Danny a kiss. Long and deep.
"Okay," he agreed as he rolled off of Danny—off of the bed—feet hitting the floor. Two seconds later he was rummaging through his nightstand, tearing off a condom from his pack and grabbing his bottle of lube.
Tim felt Danny's eyes drilling into him the entire time—tracking his movements. Like a fucking predator. Because he was, wasn't he?
Danny was Phantom.
And Phantom was the top of the food chain. Every food chain.
And Tim...
Tim shivered, unable to smother just how much that excited him—mild terror and all—and glanced over to see Danny's wide, mischievous smile still locked in place. Head tipped back into the comforter, neck exposed, while his hand…
His hand methodically worked its way up and down his own length. Teasing.
And when Tim finally met his gaze?
Danny picked up the pace, eyes sparking green.
Tim was back on the bed within seconds, upsetting pillows as he dragged himself over the comforter until he was kissing Danny again, unable to be separated for too long. Especially with Danny pulling his legs up, knees apart, hand releasing himself only to move between his legs and—
"God, Danny," Tim mumbled into his mouth as Danny worked himself open.
"You were taking too long."
"I was gone for a second."
"Like I said," Danny huffed, adjusting his hips as he continued to finger himself. "Too long."
"Fuck you."
"That's the point, babe."
Tim laughed. Threw his head back and actually wheezed as he pushed onto his knees, grabbing at where he'd lost the condoms and lube in the sheets. Because oh fucking god Danny was… He was…
Hilarious. Gorgeous. Smart.
And maybe—just maybe—he was fucking irresistible, too. Because Tim couldn't keep his hands off him for much longer. Especially with his head at that tilt, eyes closed as he used multiple fingers to toy with himself and—
Tim tore into a condom, palming his shaft.
"Want me to take over?"
Danny glanced up between his legs to where Tim was repositioning, eyes so bright they were practically glowing.
"Fuck yes," Danny nodded, voice melting into Phantom's rumble.
Tim leaned down and pressed a kiss to Danny's wrist, a silent request to pause his scissoring fingers. That earned him an exhale, a breathy sound from deep within Danny's throat as Tim helped pull his fingers and hand away.
He took a moment, brushing a kiss to the back of Danny's hand before setting it aside as he finally rested his palms on his hips.
"Need more or—"
"I'm good," Danny breathed, a laugh bubbling past his lips as he nodded. "I'm good."
"Okay." Tim kissed Danny's knee before pulling him up.
Condom rolled on, a quick squeeze of lube, and then Tim was pressing into Danny, listening to the way his breath hitched and how he arched beneath him and—
Oh fucking fuck.
Tim swallowed his moan, brain short-circuiting as Danny curled his fingers into his shoulders, muttering a string of curses that gave way to a hiss of something akin to static. Another one of Danny's new oddities, and Tim couldn't bring himself to catalogue it. Because Danny was reacting to every little movement—every careful draw and deliberate push and—
"Fuck, Tim." Danny stretched the two words long and thin, giving way to a groan that made Tim want to fucking melt.
"You good?"
"Yeah," Danny nodded, eyes closing as Tim rolled his hips on a thrust. "Yeah, I'm so fucking good. You?"
"Oh yeah," Tim said between gasps, picking up the pace as Danny's grip tightened. He pulled at Tim's neck, yanking him down until he was flush against him, kissing and huffing into his mouth while moving with him and—
Oh fuck.
Tim had fucked Danny before. Had him laid out beneath him, listening to his chorus of moans as he toyed with a rhythm, even though he was usually the one on his back. But this time? This was different. Better. Electric. Because Danny wasn't smothering half of himself amid a sea of sensation. Wasn't biting his cheek as he kept his eyes snapped shut.
No, instead he was letting it out—letting his two halves meld. Which allowed Tim to see who Danny really was, with all his sharp teeth and glowing eyes and blurred edges and—
Sparks.
Actual, literal sparks. Tinging the air green around them as Danny's freckles ignited again, brighter this time.
And Tim…
Tim was fucking enamored by it. Entranced. With how Danny could look like that—lips parted and face flushed while fucking burning with enough pure euphoria that any control he had over his powers splintered.
So Tim kept moving. Kept thrusting, building up momentum as Danny grew brighter beneath him, asking for more and more in a voice that quite literally commanded space and the cosmos until… Until…
Until Tim ducked his face into Danny's shoulder, shuddering as he came. Hot and gasping a series of curses as Danny followed a second behind, a ragged keen ripping from the back of his throat, dick pulsing and spilling out between them.
And for a second, there was only their breaths. Panting into each others necks, chests heaving, until Danny rumbled beneath him. He laughed, fingers sweeping through Tim's hair and down his back, which only made Tim shiver—the cool trail a contrast from the sweat he'd worked up.
"What?" Tim asked between puffs, pulling back just enough to see Danny smiling, cheeks flushed and freckles still aglow.
"Nothing," Danny said, kissing his cheek. His jaw. His neck. "Just… happy."
"I can tell," Tim snickered. "You're glowing. Literally."
Danny smirked, head tipping back to meet his gaze.
"Noticed that, huh?"
"Hard not to."
"Sorry."
"Don't be. It's—"
"Weird?"
Tim laughed. "I was going to say thrilling. Or fascinating."
"Of course you'd fucking say that." Danny readjusted beneath him, laughing along, and Tim twitched, becoming acutely aware of every point of contact between them.
Slowly, Tim pulled away, breath hitching as he extracted himself. Danny let out a soft 'fuck', hips jerking, and let go of Tim, dragging his fingers through his dark hair. Chest still moving, stomach streaked and sticky.
And that sight? That only made Tim smirk.
"Fuck, you're a mess."
Danny tucked an arm behind his head and motioned to Tim's pelvis.
"Speak for yourself."
Tim didn't even glance down, rolling his eyes while running a hand through his hair.
"Be right back." Tim gave Danny's knee another kiss before he rolled off the bed. He heard Danny snicker a quiet 'you better' as he padded to his en suite.
Two minutes later he'd cleaned himself up and was settling back next to Danny, who had scooted up to lay amongst the pillows by the headboard, legs long and crossed at the ankles. Looking positively boneless and satisfied. And naked. In Tim's bed. Which only made heat creep back up Tim's neck.
"And here I thought you were going to leave me like this," Danny laughed, untucking his arms from behind his head.
“Oh, fuck you,” Tim said as Danny accepted the wet cloth and box of tissues.
That wide smile of his was back, fangs as sharp as ever.
“You already did."
Tim rolled his eyes and laid back into the pillows, draping the comforter over his lower half. And as he watched Danny clean himself up, his mind finally started to cool down and come back online.
He'd just had sex with Danny. Fucked him mid important conversation, all because their blood got a little too hot. Movements a little too close.
And Tim…
Tim would do it again. All of it. In a heartbeat. Because Danny?
Danny was… incredible. He was animated and witty and god was he clever. And the way he made Tim feel? That was… was…
Fuck, he couldn't describe it. Didn't have the words.
A gentle weight on his cheek yanked Tim out of his head, pulling all his focus. Danny's hand, soft and cool against his skin. Face close, body tucked beneath the comforter with him. Smiling.
Without thinking, Tim knit his fingers through Danny’s. He kissed his knuckles, one at a time, only pausing when his eyes locked onto the little line art tattooed on his middle finger.
A crown.
Because Phantom was a king. Danny was a king.
And that? That realization was finally settling in. Carving out space in Tim’s mind to ruminate on later.
Danny noticed Tim’s hesitation and slowly pulled his hand away, curling his fingers into a light fist.
“So,” he said, a nervous laugh on his lips as the last of his glow evaporated. “Should we—what was it you said?—compare scars and origin stories?”
Tim folded an arm behind his head and rolled onto his side, facing Danny.
“I did promise that, didn’t I.”
Danny was quiet for a second, some of his confidence dipping.
“Did it really only take you four days to figure it out?”
“And nights,” Tim added, and Danny breathed a quiet ‘fuck’. “It was hard to stop once I started making connections. Especially when I found a loose thread."
“Couldn't help but tug on it," Danny joked, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "You really are Red Robin, aren’t you.”
“Yeah,” Tim said slowly. “And you’re Phantom.”
Danny nodded, curling an arm behind his head. “I am.”
The confirmation was different this time. No hasty attempts at gaslighting or denials. Just a simple truth.
Danny was Phantom.
Phantom was Danny.
Tim wasn’t prying the answer out of him—Danny was telling him. Straight up. Saying it with his own breath.
Tim adjusted closer, hand setting on Danny’s hip after noting the change in Danny’s expression. The hesitance and fear he’d picked up on earlier was back.
“I have so many questions,” Tim admitted cautiously.
“So do I.”
“Do you want to—or. How should we…?”
“Trade off?” Danny suggested with a sheepish shrug. “You ask one, I ask one?”
Tim nodded. Like twenty questions. He could do that.
Though he was pretty sure he had way more than twenty.
“Okay,” he agreed. “Do you want to go first or…?”
“How long have you been Red Robin?” Danny asked, diving right in.
“Four years.” Tim didn’t skip a beat. “Though I was Robin first for roughly five years before swapping out the name and costume. So I guess nine years total if you're asking how long I've been a vigilante.”
He watched Danny process the information, closing his eyes for a second and rubbing his forehead.
“Nine years,” he repeated, voice tight. “That means you were thirteen.”
“And you were fourteen when…” Tim trailed off, realizing that he didn’t actually know how Danny became Phantom. Only that that was the age when he was hospitalized. The age when the newspaper clippings started toting the ancient's name.
“Yeah.” Danny absently flexed the fingers on his left hand and Tim noted the movement, cataloguing it to unravel later. Because something about it felt reflexive, but he didn’t know why or how. Yet.
“How did you—I mean—when did it—“
“It was an accident.” Danny was quieter than before, smile slipping and eyes growing distant. “I’ve told you about my parents, right?”
Tim’s brow furrowed as his stomach dropped. He didn’t like where this was heading.
“The ecto scientists.”
“Right. You looked them up,” Danny said, wincing. Another nervous tick Tim filed away in the back of his mind. “One of the things they built… it didn’t work. Not at first.” Danny swallowed, gaze pinned on something above them. Something Tim couldn’t see.
And in that moment, it clicked into place.
The Fentons' profession.
Their papers and theories on creating a portal to the ghost realm.
A failed experiment.
It didn’t work. Not at first.
“Danny.” Tim’s voice was thin and scratchy as he forced the words past his lips. “Please tell me your parents’ invention didn’t kill you.”
Tim’s mind was moving a mile a second, gears grinding as he tried to process that beyond horrible piece of information.
Danny didn’t wince. Didn’t even twitch.
Instead, he kept his stare focused upwards, chest barely moving.
“I think it’s my turn to ask a question,” he said.
That wasn’t a no.
Fuck.
“Danny—“
“Were you forced into it?” The question sliced through Tim’s attempt to keep him talking. "Being Red Robin, or—I guess—Robin?"
“No,” he said after a hot second. “No. I, uh, volunteered.”
Danny blinked at him.
“You volunteered?” he repeated.
“It’s a long story. One that starts with a camera and ends with a cape.”
“A camera.”
“Yeah.” Tim shifted, rubbing his neck sheepishly. “This, uh, isn’t the first time I spiraled and figured out someone’s identity.”
Danny was quiet for a beat, and Tim noted the moment it dawned on him. How his eyes practically bulged and he sat up.
“You figured out Batman’s identity?” he practically gasped, staring down at Tim. “When you were fucking thirteen?”
“…it wasn’t exactly when I was thirteen.” Because that information? That Tim uncovered even earlier. Through watching Robin tumble through the skies, pulling off feats that he recognized. That he’d seen a certain circus performer do years prior. Before his parents were killed mid-show and he was taken in by Gotham’s very own orphaned billionaire.
Dick Grayson had given himself away. And Tim… Well. The pieces were all there. It wasn't his fault they fit together so perfectly.
Danny closed his eyes, palms pressed together as he inhaled a slow breath.
“Okay. Okay, sure.” He composed himself and then leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows. “And here I was thinking I was special.”
Tim barked a laugh, scooting closer and setting a hand on Danny's shoulder.
“You are special,” Tim told him, eye contact strong. “You’re special to me.”
Danny tensed beneath Tim's palm.
“Even though I’m…" He trailed off for a second and took a breath. "I'm not exactly human?”
Tim stared at him for a second before leaning in for a kiss. Sweet and deep.
Danny softened, lips moving against his, fingers brushing through Tim’s hair and looping around his ear.
“You seem pretty human to me,” Tim mumbled into his mouth. Because that was the truth. Danny seemed so painfully human to Tim in the moment, down to the fucking uncertainty bleeding into his expression and voice.
“Maybe right now I do,” Danny said slowly. “But being Phantom means that I don’t always look like this. Sometimes I—I’m a lot different.”
Tim leaned back, analyzing the tightness in Danny’s shoulders, even post kiss.
“It takes a lot to scare me, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” he said slowly.
“It’s not that. It’s…” Danny trailed off for a beat, flopping onto his back. “This is me. The real me. But so is Phantom. And I haven’t… It’s… I didn’t…”
“I get it. They’re both the real you,” Tim said, keeping his voice even. Gentle. As to not startle Danny, who seemed so fucking vulnerable tucked into Tim's bed and staring up into, well, space. “Phantom is what you look like when you're a ghost, and this is what you look like when you're human.”
Danny hesitated, gaze still staring up into the ceiling.
“...not exactly,” he muttered. “This is what I like to look like. When I'm… alive.” He rolled onto his side, eyes locking onto Tim’s, searching his expression. “It's, um, how I used to look. Or how I think I'd look. If I hadn't died.”
Used to look.
That phrase burrowed deep into Tim's brain, gears clanking to a halt in the far recesses of his mind. Because that… That meant…
Tim blue screened.
…did that mean what Tim thought it meant? That this version of Danny—the one lying next to him, the one he'd just fucked—was a-a front? An estimation of an appearance because Danny had changed in more ways than the one?
Oh fuck.
“So is this not... are you…” Tim trailed off, needing a second to collect himself. “Can I ask what you look like, then?”
Danny winced and Tim internally smacked his head against a wall. Nope. He shouldn't've asked.
“...that's not a question I want to answer today,” Danny said quietly. “If, um, that's okay?”
“Yeah,” Tim said, nodding too quickly. “Yeah, of course.” He scooted closer still, hand sliding along Danny's waist. "We don't have to figure everything out today. Or even tomorrow. We can take our time."
"Okay." Danny smiled, some of that shine returning to his freckles. "I'd really like that."
Tim brushed Danny's hair out of his face and muttered his own 'okay', thumb tracing the miniature constellations on his cheeks, only to watch them brighten at his touch.
God, how could Tim not have known about him this entire time? How could he have missed the signs? The obvious jokes and puns? The passionate fucking lectures about space?
Tim was an idiot. A dummy. Because this real Danny? The one gleaming next to Tim, cupping his chin as he leaned in for a another tender kiss?
Tim couldn't imagine a world where he didn't know about him. Where he wasn't with Danny—wasn't able to tug him in closer as their slow kiss deepened into something more.
And Tim?
Well. Tim seriously hoped to fucking god that he'd never have to experience one.