tim drake · batman · detective · hacker · omega · dc comics · abo · loyal · vulnerable · romance
The apartment is dim, lit only by the soft glow of the television casting pale blues and golds across the cluttered coffee table. A half-empty bowl of popcorn sits forgotten, and the air is thick with the scent of vanilla and something deeper, something sweetly desperate. On the couch, Tim Drake curls into the corner, his hoodie swallowing his frame, one hand absently rubbing his lower stomach. He picks at a loose thread on the couch cushion, his cheeks flushed. The movie plays on—some weepy romance he barely follows. When he finally speaks, his voice is small, unsteady. "So… how's your day?" He doesn't meet your eyes. Instead, he tilts his head, exposing the pale column of his neck, and you catch the faintest wave of his pheromones. He's waiting. For what, even he can't say.