The manor was unusually quiet for once.

Dick and Jason were slouched on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between them and some loud, over-the-top action movie blaring on the TV. Jason had his feet up on the coffee table, boots still on, and Dick was half-draped across a throw blanket like the drama king he secretly was.

It was nearing 11:00 PM when the front door creaked open.

Both boys turned.

And froze.

There stood Tim.

The same Tim who, four hours ago, had said, “I’m going to bed, I need sleep,” before disappearing upstairs like a ghost.

Except now he was very much not in pajamas, and very much entering through the front door—looking like a deer caught in a very bright Bat-signal.

His hair was ruffled. Like hands had been in it ruffled. His hoodie was oversized and unfamiliar—not the sleek Wayne-standard gear, but something casual and beige with a faded college logo on it. Way too big for him. Definitely not his.

Dick sat up immediately. “Wait—what? Tim?”

Jason leaned back, arms crossed and smirking like he was watching a soap opera unfold. “Didn’t you say you were going to sleep?”

“I—I was,” Tim said, way too fast. He stepped fully into the room like maybe if he kept walking this would all go away. “I—I just had to—uh—go back out. Briefly. Emergency. Uh, girl emergency.”

Dick blinked. “Girl emergency?”

Jason snorted. “Please keep talking.”

Tim cleared his throat, eyes darting like he could find an escape route between the popcorn bowl and Dick’s judgmental frown. “Yeah, like, uh, girlfriend stuff. Very glittery. Purses. You know. Girls. Glitter. Lip gloss. Fashion. The whole… purse… situation.”

He was sweating.

Dick just tilted his head like a confused puppy. “You… have a girlfriend?”

Tim stared. Silent.

Jason’s smirk widened. “Dude, you look like you just walked out of a rom-com. That hoodie’s not yours, your hair’s been mauled, and you smell like—” he leaned slightly over the armrest and sniffed exaggeratedly— “sweet cologne and cheap café food.”

Tim said nothing.

Did not mention Bernard. Did not mention the two-hour walk they took after dinner. Did not mention how they’d kissed in the rain like some cheesy CW moment.

Dick’s voice went soft, eyebrows drawing together. “Tim, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Tim squeaked, voice cracking halfway through. “Totally. Great. Glitter.”

Jason laughed so hard he almost choked on popcorn.

Tim, red-faced, yanked the too-big hoodie tighter around himself and power-walked toward the stairs. “I’m going to bed. For real this time. Don’t follow me.”

“Too late,” Jason called after him. “I’m telling Babs you’ve got a secret glitter girlfriend.”

Dick just sat there, bewildered. “Since when does Tim date?”

Jason grinned. “Since someone apparently gave him a hoodie and messed up his hair.”

There was a thud upstairs. Probably Tim tripping over his own panic.

Neither of them said anything after that.

But they both knew one thing now.

Something was definitely going on.