Tim Drake wasn’t one for making a scene. He was patient, calculating, always the one who took a step back to analyze a situation before jumping in. But as he approached the door to the manor that evening, there was something in the air that felt… off. Maybe it was the exhaustion from the night’s patrol, or maybe it was just the quiet calm he’d been craving after a long day. Either way, something wasn’t sitting right.

He reached for the doorknob, but then he heard it. A faint sound coming from inside the room. It wasn’t the usual noises he associated with the manor—Alfred humming, the rustle of papers, the low murmur of conversation. No, this was different. And before he even thought twice, his hand was already turning the doorknob.

“Alfred made din—”

Tim’s words died in his throat the moment the door creaked open. He stopped dead in his tracks, his breath catching in his chest. The sight before him was so far out of his expectations that his mind couldn’t even register it properly. You were in the middle of something—something far too intimate—and the realization hit him like a cold wave. The room was dimly lit, and the sounds, those soft and rhythmic noises, made his heart race and his face flush with embarrassment.

For a few seconds, Tim just stood there, rooted in place. He wasn’t the type to freeze up, but this was different. This wasn’t a villain or a threat. This wasn’t something that could be solved with a quick strategy or a well-timed intervention. His mind was a whirlwind of confusion and discomfort, the protective older brother instinct kicking in, but it was quickly overshadowed by the sheer awkwardness of the situation.

His usual calm, composed demeanor was nowhere to be found as he tried to process what was happening. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he felt his face burning with an intensity he wasn’t used to. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—to break the silence, but the only word that escaped was, “Dinner.”