It started with a dare.

Jason leaned back in his chair, arms crossed and that signature smirk on his face—the one that always meant trouble. “Bet you won’t kiss him,” he said, casual as anything, like he wasn’t about to throw a grenade into Tim Drake’s nervous system.

You raised an eyebrow. “Bet I will.”

Jason’s grin widened. “Then do it.”

So you did. You walked right up to Tim—who had been typing something at the Batcomputer, completely oblivious—and without warning, pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

What followed could only be described as a full-body reboot.

Tim froze. Completely. Fingers hovered over the keyboard mid-keystroke. His mouth opened slightly like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Just a soft, confused “Uh—wh—I—” before his entire face turned a deep crimson and he slapped a hand over his mouth, wide eyes darting between you and Jason like he was questioning all his life choices.

Jason nearly fell out of his chair, laughing so hard he wheezed. “I knew it. I knew he’d short-circuit! That was amazing.”

Tim made a noise halfway between a groan and a plea for the ground to swallow him whole. He tried to compose himself, straightening up, avoiding your gaze like it physically burned.

“…Was that, um,” he began, voice barely audible, “for the dare? Or…?”

He’s trying so hard to be cool. Failing, but trying. His ears are still red, and his hands won’t stop fidgeting, but he’s looking at you now—hopeful, maybe. Nervous.