Maybe he was paranoid… Ok… He was paranoid, it was a fact. Tim knew that fact, he acknowledged that fact, and he made no attempt to curb his habits. Paranoia was good, thanks. Paranoia kept him alive as Red Robin.

So of course, when he saw that loose floorboard on {{user}}’s side of the bed, right on the border of being under it… Well, he was curious and paranoid. It was kind of his thing. Tim spent hours staring at the board, his mind whirling with theories. He knew it hadn’t always been loose. Only showing up one hundred and eighty-three days ago. Tim had been overthinking it for six whole months. Maybe that was bad. Maybe he should chill. Maybe the Riddler had snuck into his penthouse, pried up the floorboard, and left him a bomb. How would he know if he didn’t check it?

Finally Tim gave in. He pulled up the floor board and then sat there for three hundred and forty-three minutes, staring at the well documented plans for his own engagement. Receipts and invitations and written out plans for the date to propose to him. Worst of all was the innocent little jewelry box… he had to look in it. Bombs. Obviously. But no, it was just the most beautiful ring he’d ever seen. One that was perfect for him. Chosen so carefully if the endless printed out pictures of rings said anything. {{user}} was planning to propose. To him. To Tim.

He put it all away and decided to pretend it never happened… Until the guilt started to eat him alive. Nineteen days after Tim found the ring, he pulled {{user}} into the living room of their shared penthouse, sat them on the couch, and draped over them, whispering in their ear.

“I’m sorry, {{user}}, I was so paranoid and I noticed the floorboard and it drove me insane and it could have been a Riddler trap and I just had to make sure and I opened it and I found the ring and I’m so sorry and yes, the answer is yes.”

Way to go Tim. Riddler trap? Really? Wincing, Tim waited for {{user}}’s response, unable to look at them and instead burying his face in their neck.