Hi! Hope you've all been doing well! This was requested by @posiedens_daughter 😊. It uses prompt number 24 ("I'm not letting you sleep on the floor, get up here."). I changed it a little hope you don't mind! I am so sorry for my absence but I'm back now and shouldn't have another break for a while now! Also, be prepared because I have a project coming your way and I have a feeling Jason Todd and Dick Grayson fans will love it...I will say nothing more. Anyway, what do you guys think of YJ season 3? I'm loving it!
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(Y/N) POV
The room is darker than usual. Earlier I had drawn the curtains in a useless attempt to filter the orange glow of the streetlights illuminating the streets below. I glance at the clock beside my bed, the numbers 2:25 am glowing in a bright green. I groan and roll over, in the few hours I've been in bed, I've woken up six times. Each time has been short but the time I've spent awake is enough to break my sleep into un-refreshing chunks. I sigh wearily. Unable to fall back asleep, I sit upright on my bed, my legs outstretched and covered with my warm duvet. The noise of Gotham's nightlife is quieter than usual its almost as if Gotham's criminals decided to take a night off.
The pitter patter of the rain replaces the silence which once filled my bedroom. It brings an odd sense of protection and safety along with it. It makes me feel somewhat less alone as I wait for Tim to return from patrol. I push myself off the bed, shivering as my feet hit the cool floor before approaching the window. I push the heavy curtains to the side and peek outside watching droplets of water run down the pane. Odd, fluid shapes spike odd angles that leave trails when they move downwards, a captivating sight for an insomniac at this time of the morning. Through the rain, I can make out the street outside. Everything is the same, only greyer and blurred with softer edges. I glance at my clock once more, 2:55 am...still no sign of Tim.
I make my way to the kitchen and fill the kettle to make a coffee I have no intention of drinking. I turn the radio on and sit, only to turn it off a minute later. I turn on my phone and scroll through my Wattpad feed, in an attempt to tire myself. When I hear the kettle click off and it settling to a quiet hum, I realise I'm standing an inch from the window, peering out of it, wishing I know where Tim is. I admire how the cityscape is assembled as if a child has thrown blocks down randomly and swept them so close together that they almost touch. Between some dwellings and businesses, the roads are so narrow that they are frequently blocked by trucks bringing in wares. Between the other chaotic buildings run a network of paths just wide enough for two skinny people to pass.
I venture back to my bedroom and fall back onto the semi-warm bed, the mattress sinking under my weight and I snuggle deeper into the soft duvet. My (H/C) hair spreads out around my head like a halo. I doze in and out of consciousness. Random images floating aimlessly around in the pool of my thoughts, as though they are being blown about by a fan on its highest setting. The sound of the balcony door sliding opening causes me to jerk awake although I quickly settle back into the sheets when Tim's mumbling reach my ears. The living room lights are switched off and I hear Tim sigh as his body hits what I assume is the couch.
"Dude, I'm not letting you sleep on the couch, get your butt in here!" I yell out.
I suck in a sharp breath as Tim enters the room. Every muscle on his torso flows from the light into the dark. The scars which had been pink years ago are now shiny and pale. But the scar which always catches my eye is the long jagged scar which snakes down his torso. When I asked him about them, he would describe them as a lesson, he said it taught him not to get caught, it taught him to run faster, to be careful and to be better.
Tim Drake Pov
After three patrols and only a few hours sleep my off time, you'd think I'd be out before my head hits the pillow, but somehow it's all backwards. There is a tenseness to my muscles that makes me more like a mannequin on this soft mattress than a man of flesh and bone. I want to melt onto the soft foam, wrapped in eiderdown, and drift into the world of dreams. Although, my brain is a violent whirl of old and new cases Bruce and I have yet to solve. I wrap my arm around (N/N)'s waist bringing me a peace I've only ever known in her presence, calming the storm in my mind.
"I bet you're tired," she says.
"Maybe," I murmur with a tiny sigh.
"Do you ever think about what'll be in your future?" She asks.
"Sometimes," I reply.
"What do you see?" she asks.
Her eyes light up like a thousand fireflies, and she leans forward making my pulse race. A small lock of hair tumbles in front of her face, resting just in front of her cheek, but with one swift slide of my thumb, it is brushed out of the way. Looking into her eyes I see deep pools of (E/C) that display her soul. Our fingers lock together similar to puzzle pieces and I bring my lips to the top of her hand, kissing it gently. As I pull away, my lips tingle. A small grin creeps onto my face as her cheeks paint themselves rose red.
"Us," I whisper.
And then she gives me a smile that just seems so genuinely sweet that unexpected warmth rushes through me. The smile she wears makes me full as if the whole world is mine. When our eyes meet it feels as if everything has paused and belongs right in its place. I don't know what's going to happen to us. I cannot read the stars or converse with The Fates but I do know this: I'm all in, Here and Now, until I die. No matter how difficult it gets, or how desperately the world tries to tear us apart, I'll always be hers.
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I'm so sorry, I know it's shorter than usual...