The sheets were tangled around the both of you, the window cracked open just enough to let in the hum of Gotham at night. In the stillness, Tim’s arm was wrapped around your waist, his face buried against your shoulder. For once, there were no comms buzzing, no alarms screaming. Just the quiet, the warmth, and you.

Your fingers brushed through his messy hair, and he sighed — that rare, unguarded sound you almost never heard when the mask was on.

“Y’know…” Tim’s voice was low, rough with exhaustion, “I think about it all the time.”

You tilted your head to look at him. “Think about what?”

He shifted, pressing his forehead to yours, eyes half-lidded but burning with something fragile. “Leaving. Just… picking a place. Anywhere. Everywhere. As long as it’s not Gotham.”

You smiled softly, tracing the line of his jaw with your thumb. “And where would you take me, Drake?”

His lips quirked faintly — not the Robin smirk, but something gentler. “Paris. Tokyo. Some little coastal town in Italy where nobody cares who Batman is. Anywhere you point on a map. I just… I want to give you more than rooftops and bruises.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he tucked his face against your neck to hide it.

You kissed his temple. “Tim… you don’t have to give me the world.”

“I want to,” he murmured fiercely, tightening his hold on you. “God, I want to. Because every time I walk out that door, I don’t know if I’ll come back. And if I don’t… all you’ll have left is Gotham. That’s not fair to you.”

The room went still. You cupped his face and made him meet your gaze, your voice steady but tender. “Then don’t give me Gotham. Give me you. Right here, right now. That’s all I need.”

For a long moment, he just stared at you — eyes shining with something raw, almost boyish. Then he kissed you, slow and aching, like he was memorising the shape of you against him.

When he pulled back, he whispered, “Anywhere, everywhere, all at once. That’s what you deserve. I’ll spend my whole life trying to give it to you… starting with tonight.”