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Traditionally, he had always been the least interesting one. The boring, not orphaned one, who had no street cred, no significant ethnicity or blood relations that made him stand out in a crowd.
Sure, he was a genius, but so was Jay; and so was Bruce.
He was ordinary Tim Drake with the upper middle class background and the loving, if often absent parents that forgot his birthday but usually sent postcards and trinkets because he was always in their mind.
No tragedy to start him - at least not a personal one - no higher calling of blood and flame and gore and despair.
He was just Timmy who wanted to be better and... to a certain degree, that was perfectly okay with him.
Which was the main reason why he always hated when villains that obviously should move along and have their creepy-stalkerish eyes on Bruce or Jay or Dick or Babs oddly gravitated towards him with their smiles and their leers and their double ended comments that made half of him want to shower in bleach in the hopes of ever feeling clean again and another, more hidden part of him, roll his eyes because if he was the evil overlord of the week, he would have done so much better.
Oh, well.
He was having a great day, that one quiet winter morning. He was enjoying a wondrous cup of coffee with his friends as he walked the streets of New York - he wasn't being lazy! Wayne Enterprises needed a contact with Star Labs and he took the chance to go on his own and see Celine - and suddenly Miguel was squinting and pointing out the hot, older man that had been following them around for the last hour or so, and Tim instantly thought Ra's because, yeah, that was a thing in his life but he was sure the old immortal would be too busy with Damian's little brush with death to be bothered and the fact that the League of Shadows had been moving more than usual towards the south would keep him out of his hair for a while.
So Tim took a careful sip of his coffee as he finally allowed to look at the man comfortably sitting behind them from the reflection on Bart's tall glass of root beer.
"Everything alright, Tim?" Cassie asked, eyes shifting.
Miguel slapped a hand on his thigh.
"He has that sassy scowl on of his," the teen laughed. "Must be one of his admirers."
"Another one?" Celine said, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.
"You guys seem to think I'm some sort of sex god or something," Tim said, his most threatening scowl on his face. "I'm not Nightwing'"
His traitorous teammates looked at him with clear amusement.
"Is he bothering you, Tim?" Kon asked as he returned to their table, eyes narrowed as he looked behind them to their obvious stalker.
"Speaking of admirers..." Cassie snorted into her teacup, eyes fond.
"Wha-..." Kon asked, his eyes wide.
"Let me handle this," said Tim with a roll of his eyes, before standing from his really comfortable chair and walking towards the man waiting for him a few tables ahead.
And blinking in shock.
"No way!" he gapped, making the man chuckle.
"Way..." he said confidently, pale blue eyes light with amusement. "Took you long enough to notice me, Timothy."
Tim scowled.
"I knew you were there a while ago, Mr. Wayne," he snapped, pulling a chair towards the man's table and plopping onto it quite childishly. "Just thought you were looking for someone else."
Thomas Wayne Jr. raised an eyebrow inquisitively.
"You do know I'm not Nightwing, right?"
Owlman laughed, eyes bright and a little deranged.
"You are just as perfect as your file said you'd be," he said honestly, reaching to place his hand on top of Tim's.
Tim's nose wrinkled.
"A file all for little old me? Really?" He asked with a sneer he was sure would have made Jason proud. “You know how to make a girl feel special.”
“You deserve that and more, dearest Timothy,” Thomas leered back, his eyes bright with amusement.
Their banter was as natural as it could be, Thomas instantly knowing where to push to make the psychopathic part of Tim’s brain twitch and giggle.
He allowed himself a smile.
Such a shame.
“I must say I am surprised nonetheless,” Tim said, eyeing the cup of delicious-looking coffee Thomas was pushing his way and rolling his eyes as he produced a water bottle from his pocked with a look that said: ‘Really, Owlman? Really?’ that the older man took gracefully, with a small shake of his head.
“Oh?”
“I’m not kidding when I say I’m not Nightwing,” he replied with a shrug. “Most, if not all of Batman’s former nemesis turn to Nightwing for a fight after a while. He calls it his magnetism.”
“Magnetism?” Thomas said with an eyebrow raised. “Surely he can’t think…”
“I guess it’s his Alfred-approved word for booty,” Tim shrugged. “He’s not as dumb as he likes people to believe.”
“I don’t doubt it. That boy can be quite charismatic if he wants to,” Owlman said with a small shrug of his powerful shoulders barely covered by his expensive cotton shirt. “Then again, he’s not you.”
Tim raised an eyebrow.
“Here you are, Timothy,” Thomas continued. “Sitting in front of me with that ridiculous getup of ripped jeans and cartoon-themed t-shirt, trying to convince me to go after your older brother just so I can leave you alone, aren’t you?”
The teen felt himself smile.
“You are good,” he said, taking a sip of his water. “Not many notices when I try to steer them in the direction of someone else.”
“You are far too much like the Talon I lost,” Thomas said simply. “Ruthlessly sacrificing your brothers for your own safety.”
“They can handle you pretty well on their own, I’m sure,” Tim said vaguely, shaking his head.
“Is that why you weren’t there when I decided to attack Bruce?” the older man asked, leaning forward. “I was actually expecting you.”
“Is that what this is about?” Tim asked back with mirth. “You felt like I stood you up?”
Thomas laughed.
“I will admit I wasdisappointed by your absence,” he said, shrugging once more in that way that accentuated the sensuality of his muscles and the flawlessness of his form. Tim would have to be blind not to notice the way he was slowly displaying himself like a peacock.
So, he was one of those kinds of stalkers.
“And then an acquaintance of yours happened to mention your name while berating me for poaching onto his own territory,” the man sighed with a small frown.
“Ah, Ra’s…” Tim nodded. “He can be quite possessive.”
“I must admit I was intrigued…”
Tim sighed, finally giving into his innate curiosity and grabbing the coffee cup Thomas had lain there for him, taking a tentative sip and almost sighing in pleasure when the dark brew hit his tongue.
The man knew his coffee alright.
Ten more points to him, then.
And yeah, he could almost imagine how the conversation between the Owlman and the Demon’s Head had gone.
Ra’s had probably approached Owlman as the man recounted his forces, all mighty eyebrows of doomed disappointment and soft tsks of the tongue as he berated him for putting his grandson in danger, and how the Detective’s fate was in no other hands but his own. Thomas was, most likely, bored and had mentioned himself how he had not been such a threat to the Batman, seeing how the whole family had not been present while combating him and his forces, only to have Ra’s grin that unrepentant grin of superiority of his as he, cocky immortal he was, had mentioned in passing that his “Young Detective” only came out when the danger was real and that Timothy himself felt Owlman was not big enough to bother with.
And, of course, Thomas Wayne Jr. had been offended then.
And curious.
“I’m guessing you are the one who hacked into my auxiliary network last week?” Tim asked once he managed to get his toes to uncurl from the pleasure.
It was good coffee, after all.
Thomas grinned, all teeth and obscene interest.
“I did.”
“And also decided to steal my blood samples?”
“Yes.”
“And had a paparazzi posted on my building? Camera always pointing towards my apartment?”
Thomas laughed out loud.
“I’m afraid I’m more of a ‘drone with a camera’ kind of guy, so no,” he said, shaking his head.
“Oh, the drone then? I’m sorry I broke it,” Tim mocked, shaking his own head.
So, the paparazzi was someone else’s? He slowly took another sip of his – ungodly, glorious, how on Earth had Thomas Wayne done it? – coffee as he let his eyes roam the small coffee shop they were in, checking each and every patron in the place with a newfound sense of interest.
Most were teenagers like himself and his friends, also couples, too engrossed in eachother to notice the world around them.
“Come with me to my world, Timothy…” Thomas was saying, his hand reaching to stroke down Tim’s arm. “There is nothing in this world that Bruce can give you anymore…”
There were a few would be hipsters with their tablets and their ridiculously big glasses – that Tim secretly envied and would have bought for himself had he not have to endure Jason’s constant teasing – typing away in their own little world of social media and future internet fame that would never come.
“If the companionship of your insipid friends is what makes you stay in this world, you must know there are parallels in mine, dear boy,” Owlman continued, his fingers soft against Tim’s wrist. “Considering your more than amazing talents you could have Ultraboy in your bed by the end of the week.”
Tim looked over, as did most of the patrons, when Kon’s cup shattered in his hand loudly, his cheeks were bright red and his whole frame was shivering with the effort to keep himself still – also, Cassie was holding onto his free arm with was seemed like most of her inhuman strength and Tim was sure it hurt the clone in some ways –, and he should feel sorry for the poor meta, but then again he was obviously eavesdropping onto their conversation and he deserved it.
Thomas laughed.
“Not that I don’t doubt you can do the same here,” he said with fondness. “But all the wasted potential, Timothy, all the missed chances.”
Ah, there he was.
The only would be writer that had not been startled by Kon’s ruckus.
Decked in black-rimmed glasses, a cotton scarf and a fedora.
The young man typed away in his Ipad without a care in the world.
Tim waited for it for a few seconds, his eyes boring into the young man.
Their eyes met.
Oh yes, he should have known.
Timothy took one last slow sip of his coffee, eyes glinting with malice.
“I won’t say I’m not tempted,” he said softly, his cheeks dusting with a faint hue of pink as he finally allowed himself to look back at Thomas Wayne. “Your offer is very generous.”
With his small smile still in place, he allowed his hand to capture Thomas’, his thumb playing with the pulse point on the man’s wrist.
“Oh?” the man encouraged, entwining their fingers together.
“Cassie! You are crushing my hand!” Kon whined.
“However,” Tim said as he leaned forward, his smile growing.
The young man in the fedora typed furiously, his eyes trained on them.
Thomas leaned forward as well.
“I’m sure you’ll be far too busy to worry about little poor little me and my wasted potential…” the teen whispered, finally allowing himself to give the corner of Thomas’ lips a shy lick. “Sorry about that.”
The young man in the fedora almost cracked his Ipad with the strength of his typing and the muttered curse he let out.
Thomas’ eyes widened when almost half of the patrons of the small coffee shop turned to them in complete unison, their eyes narrowed, their hands reaching into their pockets.
Thomas’ smile widened.
“You little minx,” he said, his happiness obvious.
Tim sat back.
“You realize this only makes me want you more, don’t you, boy?” Owlman hissed with pleasure, his tongue licking his lips.
“I believe you have about an hour before the Demon’s Head is on your tail, Mr. Wayne,” Tim replied cheekily. “I would run if I were you.”
Thomas stood then, body almost vibrating with excitement.
“Until we meet again, Timothy,” he bid as he slowly walked away from the teen, his shoulders tensing for battle.
Tim watched him go and then be followed by all the members of the League of Shadows around them, young man in the fedora included.
He sighed.
“Dude!” Kon said as he was finally allowed to approach him. “Are you okay?”
Tim nodded.
“I think I just started a small war between super-villains,” he told his friends with a shrug of his shoulders. “Do you think Batman will be angry?”
“Are you kidding?” Cassie said with a wide grin of her own. “You pitted the Owlman against the Demon’s Head.”
“You shouldn’t expose yourself to so much danger, Tim,” Superboy said as he took his customary place to Tim’s right, eyes worried.
He shook his head, just as Kon’s hand slid into his own
“Hopefully, Ra’s Al Ghul will be able to run Owlman out of this universe faster than Batman ever could,” Miguel added, wrapping a friendly arm around Tim’s shoulders, his eyes fond. “Now let’s go watch a movie, querido, you did promise.”
Tim nodded, his eyes fond as he finally noticed Matches Malone smoking a cigarette outside the coffee shop.
He guessed he wasn’t in any real danger, as usual.
One of this days he and his father would need to have a conversation.
But for now, he and his friends needed to go and see a movie, and pretend they were the normal teenagers they usually were not.
And yeah, this might not be the last time this happened, but he was sure he could always count on his friends and Bruce to watch his back.
And if everything failed, Dick did have a really charismatic booty.