Actions Have Consequences (Tim Drake x Reader)

gurlluvswriting:

Request from: @grumpycheshirecat
Prompt: “Please hide me”
Warnings: None.

Today had been an adventure- you mean that in a sarcastic way, of course. Work was already hectic on it’s own, but your boss decided to give you some more assignments to go. However, you knew that in your crappy apartment with thin walls, you’d never be able to focus- especially with your new neighbors who liked to be a bit more vocal than the average person.

So here you were, in Wayne Manor, sitting on their couch that definitely cost triple your apartment rent. It was nice, to say the least. Your laptop was on the coffee table, along with the paperwork that was scattered atop its surface- and you had a giant, comfy blanket on your lap. It pooled to the floor, even if you pulled it up to your shoulders!

You had just finished half of your work when Tim burst through the doors, looking extremely frantic and absolutely terrified. When his eyes lock onto yours, it’s as though he’s suddenly right in front you, gripping your shoulders firmly.

“Please hide me,” He says, his voice barely even a whisper.

“What?” You ask, bewildered. “Is everything-”

“I don’t have time to explain, just help me, please. I’m begging you!”

A sudden rush of protectiveness flows through you and you’re looking around in order to find a decent hiding place. There seemed to be little hope. The room was spotless, and open- it was also daylight, so attempting to put him in the shadows would also prove faulty. You glance down at the blanket, and that’s the only idea you have.

You lift the end of the blanket, “Uh, here!”

Whatever was going on, you knew he wasn’t kidding when he didn’t say he had time, because without any argument he crawled under the blanket, and even under your legs. The doors slam open once more, and you swear you could hear Tim go rigid.

You look at the door to figure out what’s going on, and immediately shove a hand to your mouth to keep yourself from laughing. There, in the doorway, hands still holding the doors open, was Damian Wayne with hot pink hair.

“Where is he?” The boy demands.

“Where is who?” You ask, feigning ignorance.

“Drake!”

“How should I know? I’ve been doing work for, like, three hours.”

He narrows his eyes at you, as though he was looking through your very soul, then scrunches up his nose. “Why such a large blanket?”

Crap. “I like to be comfortable and bundled up. I always grab this blanket when I’m here, you can even ask Alfred.”

Damian continues to have his eyes narrowed in suspicion for a while longer, until he does his signature “tt” and promptly begins to leave the premises. Just before he does, however, he adds: “I hope you are not serious with your relations with Drake, because as soon as I find him, he’ll be scheduling his funeral.”

Then he slams the door shut behind him, much to your relief, since you were no longer able to hold in the snort of laughter that surfaced. You throw the blanket off of yourself, and look at Tim, who seems to be completely paralyzed in shock that the hiding place actually worked.

You cross your legs on his back, “You know, I learned something valuable with this. You make a great foot rest.”

He scoffs in mock offense before gently moving your legs to stand up and sit next to you. “Thank you for giving me a few more moments of life.”

“So, you wanna tell me why Boy Wonder has taken on a new hair color?”

“Payback.”

“Oh?”

“He ‘accidentally’ destroyed all of my equipment.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You resume typing away at your keyboard as he lies his head onto your shoulder. With a smirk you ask: “Was it worth your undeniable demise?”

He doesn’t even hesitate for a second when he says: “Definitely.”