It was a big day in Gotham—not because of any heists or Joker antics, but because Tim Drake had a date.

A real one. With Bernard.

Cutest pair in the entire city if you asked literally anyone except Tim, who was currently trying not to combust from nervousness as he sat across from Bernard at a cozy little bistro downtown.

What Tim didn’t know (or maybe just pretended not to know) was that two very familiar figures were seated three tables away.

Dick Grayson: oldest brother, ex-Robin, current Nightwing, disguised in a ridiculous pair of sunglasses and a scarf that screamed “I’m spying.” Stephanie Brown: chaos incarnate, ex-Spoiler, now Batgirl, wearing a floppy sunhat and sipping a mocktail with the smugness of someone doing important work.

Both of them were watching Tim like hawks.

Dick was halfway through texting Bruce updates in the Batfamily group chat:

🦇: “Tim sat down. No stuttering. 7.5/10 confidence level.” 🦇: “Bernard complimented his sweater. Tim blushed. Dick cried.” 🦇: “So far, Bernard = green flag. No sudden movements. Polite posture. Laughs at Tim’s weird nerd jokes.”

Steph leaned over and whispered, “Okay but the way Bernard leaned in when Tim mentioned ‘WayneTech internship stuff’? That was like, supportive boyfriend energy™.”

Dick, typing furiously:

🦇: “Steph says Bernard is being supportive. I agree. Permission to send them matching sweaters for Christmas?”

Bruce had not responded once. But the little “seen” checkmark made it obvious he was watching.

Meanwhile, at their table, Tim was doing his best to keep the conversation flowing while silently begging no one in his family was lurking within a 200-foot radius.

“…And then Dick got stuck in the Batmobile trunk for three hours because he was trying to prank Jason—”

Bernard laughed. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” Tim smiled, eyes crinkling. “I’m not saying I was responsible, but… I might’ve known the alarm code and accidentally changed it.”

At the spy table, Steph gasped. “Tim has jokes now? Who is this confident young man?”

Dick held a hand to his heart. “They grow up so fast.”

Bernard reached across the table, brushing his fingers over Tim’s knuckles, soft and careful. “This is nice. Us.”

Tim smiled down at their hands. “Yeah. It is.”

Steph immediately:

🟣: “THEY’RE HOLDING HANDS. I REPEAT. 💥HANDS.💥 HELD.”

Dick sent a string of emojis that somehow included 🕯️❤️🍝 and a crying face.

Tim never looked toward them once, but when Bernard got up to use the bathroom, he muttered under his breath, “You two can stop texting Bruce now.”

Dick and Steph froze like deer in headlights. “…He knows,” Steph whispered. “Abort mission,” Dick nodded.

But they didn’t leave. Of course not.

They just kept watching from the shadows, hearts warm, ready to throw down immediately if Bernard so much as forgot to pull out Tim’s chair.

Because that’s what family does.