For Becca-boo
Title: Time
Wordcount: 547
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Tim/Bernard
Summary: Tim's on time for their anniversary.
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Tim checked his watch, taking the apartment steps two at a time. He grinned.
On time.
He brushed the dirt off his jacket and checked his face for domino glue as he darted around the last corner and came to a halt in front of their door. Bernard had been antagonizing him for weeks to come home tonight at a reasonable hour. Tim had never been much for anniversaries - crime waited for no man - but it was important to keep up certain traditions in a relationship, particularly when Bernard had obviously made plans. For once he wouldn’t be disappointed, either.
Tim had called in several favors from Nightwing and Huntress to cover the city, handing over several sensitive cases he’d otherwise would’ve sold his soul to close himself. Still, as inconvenient as it was, he couldn’t wait to see Bernard’s face when he actually showed up. He was amazed how much patience Bernard had, dealing with dropped dates, cancelled dinners, and lonely nights with barely a blink, much less a complaint. Tim figured one night a year was not too much for his boyfriend to ask.
Tim tangled with his keys and jiggled the handle, frowning as something crashed in the bedroom. “Bernard?” He called, cautiously, slipping along the wall with a birdarang in his hand.
“OH MY GOD!”
Tim froze, blood going cold at the terrified scream. He ran toward the bedroom, only to be met with a naked and well-oiled chest blocking the way.
Bernard plastered himself in front of the closed door and yelled, “You’re not supposed to be home yet!”
Tim stared.
“I-I’m supposed to have hours! Why are you here? And now?! It’s going to ruin everything! The stromboli’s still baking!” Bernard pulled at his hair and moved to rush towards the kitchen, only to be diverted by whatever was hiding in the bedroom.
“You said seven.” Tim replied, lost. Light flickered across Bernard’s chest again and Tim could feel his eyebrows crawling up his face. Yes, that was oil all over his chest, and if he wasn’t mistaken, all over everything else, too. “Where are you pants?”
Bernard glanced down, “OH GODS!” and was gone, disappearing behind the magic door without an answer.
Tim knocked, leaning in to hear the muffled curses, “Bernard?”
“Seven? Seven!” He heard, “How could he arrive at seven? He never arrives at seven! Seven in Tim-time means ‘reasonably close to midnight’! How could he do this? Nothing’s ready!”
This was ridiculous, Tim decided, and rolled his eyes. He opened the door. “Bernard…” He trailed off, taking in their room with dumb astonishment. There were lit candles and roses everywhere, even strewn across the mattress, something Alfred never would have allowed, because surely crunching the petals into the coverlet would stain.
Bernard eyed him wildly, then dove for the bed and gracelessly flopped on top of it, attempting a sultry look. “Oh, uh, honey,” he said, attempting nonchalance. “You’re home.”
Tim looked around him taking in the ridiculous plastic hearts hanging above the door and the hallmark nightmare that had become his home and shook his head. Then he smiled and stripped off his jacket, tossing it in the corner while he crawled up the bed.
“Yeah,” He grinned leaning in for a soft kiss, “I am.”
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There ya go! Sorry it took me a few days, but I was stuck. Then, Bernard waved his hands and went 'Heeeeeeeello' and it all came together.