I'll Be Yours (A Love Story) [Ch 1/?]
Title: I'll Be Yours (A Love Story) [Ch 1/? A LOT]
Continuity: Comics!verse AU, based on post-Crisis continuity.
Characters: This chapter- Timothy Drake, extensive mentions of Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne, mentions of other DCU characters; more characters in future chapters.
Rating: R. Hard R.
Warnings: This chapter, not much. Mental illness, discussion of death, general creepiness. In future chapters, expect the recreational killing of animals, murder, violence, blood, severed body parts, discussion of sexuality in minors, etc, etc; in short, AU!Timmy is not your friend.
Word Count: 1349
Summary: Tim Drake loves Dick Grayson more than anyone or anything else in the world. When Dick meets Tim, he will love Tim, too, and he will be Tim's forever.
Notes: Un-beta'd. ...Welcome to my other epic; I don't know how many chapters this will be; however many I need to contain the plot. ...So, hey, you know how little Timmy is obsessed with Dick and stalks him and Bruce and takes pictures of them like the tiny little creeper he is? In this AU I take that idea and run with it. I run a marathon. To dark, twisty, scary, bad places. If you're looking for happy, wholesome, and well-adjusted, look elsewhere. Credit to the Placebo song "I'll be Yours" for the title; this bunny was spawned by and heavily influenced by music, so expect song lyrics to pop up frequently. I will credit where appropriate.
[ Next Chapter] [ Chapter Masterlist and Notes]
* * *
My mom and dad don't love me. They're afraid of me. This used to make me sad, but not anymore. I'm okay with it. Afraid is almost as good.
Afraid keeps them away on long trips, where they don't have to see me or think about me. They come back to Gotham City once or twice a year, and when they do they ask me questions. How am I? What have I been doing with my time? Have I made any new friends? They avert their eyes when I answer and try to believe I'm telling them the truth. They don't really want to know. It's easier for them to pretend that the therapy had some effect on me, that the tiny, crumpled bodies, feathers and hair and bone, are a thing of the past. They want to avoid a scandal. They don't want to be the ones with the crazy son. So they believe my lies, and even when they're home they keep their distance.
The rest of the year , I am someone else's problem. They used to leave me with a housekeeper. There have been several. Each gave my parents a different reason for leaving. Most of them are liars. All of them left because, like my parents, they are afraid of me. (I hurt some of them.)
Now I stay at a boarding school. I've learned to pretend I'm like the others so they can't get rid of me. I like it there. There are a lot of boys at the school, too many to keep track of. It's easy for me to slip away, and nobody notices. Nobody knows. And I can do whatever I want.
Whatever I want.
~ ~ ~
Let me tell you about the two most important days of my life.
The first is one of my earliest memories. My mom and dad were still trying to love me back then. And, looking back, I think they were worried about me. I've heard them say, "Our Timothy was such a quiet child, so very shy, he didn't play well with the other children," with that pinched look around their eyes that means they're distressed.
This particular day they took me to the circus, for the first and only time. I remember at first being uncomfortable. It was crowded with strangers, noisy, smelly people.
And then I met Dick.
He was walking by with his parents; they were getting ready to perform. The Flying Graysons. My parents asked if they would take a photograph with us.
Dick was not noisy or smelly. He put his hand on my shoulder and leaned in close. He smiled at me. "Hello, Tim," he said. Tim, not Timothy, like my parents called me. Tim. "My name is Dick."
We took our photograph, our parents standing together, Dick on one knee and me pulled up tight against him with his arm around my shoulders. Dick smiled. I smiled.
I still have that photograph. It is my favorite. It is the proof of that wonderful memory. Dick was not like the other children, who avoided me on the playground and never asked me to play. Dick loved me.
"Watch me on the trapeze, Tim," Dick told me. "I'm going to do the quadruple somersault, just for you." He smiled.
On the trapeze Dick was wonderful. He flew so easily, so effortlessly. And like he promised, he did a quadruple somersault. Just for me.
Dick stood high up on the platform, smiling and waving. Then his parents flew. He watched. I watched. I saw the ropes snap. I watched them fall, and fall, and fall. I heard the noise when they stopped falling, stopped moving.
I dream about that often. And in my dreams I remember Dick up above us on the platform, alone, looking down.
(He didn't want to come down again. One of the circus-people had to climb up to get him.)
...The other most important day of my life happened when I was nine years old. My mom and dad were home for once, and so was I; they hadn't sent me to the boarding school yet. My parents were in their respective studies with their doors closed; I was doing my homework and listening to the news on television.
The newscaster said, "Gotham City's Dynamic Duo." I put my pen down and looked at the screen. The network had received exclusive footage of Batman and Robin apprehending the Penguin, caught on security tape.
It was an exciting and rare event. I watched avidly. Batman's cape flared as he dodged gunfire. Robin crouched high up on a catwalk railing. He launched himself into space, somersaulting through the air before landing on the Penguin, dropping him.
The footage continued, but I sat frozen. My world had just changed.
Robin had done a quadruple somersault. Dick Grayson was the only person in the world who could do a quadruple somersault, now that his parents were dead.
Dick was Robin.
I sat that way for a long time, beyond sight and hearing. I had thought Dick was wonderful. Now I knew how amazing he really was. The protègé, partner, and equal of Batman, the Boy Wonder, the teenaged scourge of Gotham's dark underbelly. The most amazing person in the world. Strong. Smart. Beautiful.
Perfect.
For weeks I waited for the rest of the world to have the same revelation, but it never happened. No one remembered or cared about Dick's career as a circus acrobat, only Dick Grayson the young ward of billionaire Bruce Wayne. (Bruce Wayne, the Batman.) No one else made the connection. No one else knew what I knew.
It was fate. It was fate that I should meet Dick on the day of his parents' death, on the day he met Batman. It was fate that Dick would do the quadruple somersault just for me, so that years later I would see him on the news and know him. Fate decreed that his secret would be given to me, and me alone.
I realized then that Dick and I were connected. We were meant to be together. One day we would meet, and Dick would love me again.
~ ~ ~
I have worked long and hard to better myself, to be worthy of him. I am not naturally perfect like Dick; I have had to push myself to the limit, mentally and physically. I have skipped grades; I take advanced courses and excel in every one, especially in the sciences. I have studied gymnastics, jujitsu, riflery. I have taught myself parkour, sleight of hand, lipreading, lock-picking, how to hot-wire a car. I have studied Dick and Bruce. Dick shares all his secrets with me. I know the identities of Dick's friends, Superman (Clark Kent), Batgirl (Barbara Gordon), each member of the Teen Titans and most of their mentors. I know the location of the Batcave and a few of its entrances. I know a few of the safehouses, too, places in the city Robin and Batman go to rest, to heal, to eat. I know the routes they are most likely to take across the rooftops, the vantage points they are most likely to occupy to keep their vigil over Gotham's streets and alleys. I've been following them for years, and I'm very good at it now. I have my own routes and vantage points.
I go out, not every night, but most nights. I don't always see them. Sometimes only once in two weeks or longer; sometimes twice within a few days. There is nothing in my life more important than this. I live to see the flash of red and green and gold against Gotham's shadows, or Dick's profile and billowing cape silhouetted against the underlit clouds of Gotham's sullen sky. Each sighting is like the very first time: my breath goes short, my skin goes hot; I tremble, I shudder, I ache. I burn to be closer to Dick, to hear him, smell him, touch him.
I'm almost ready. The day we will meet will be here soon, so soon. And we will be together forever.
* * *
[ Next Chapter]
Continuity: Comics!verse AU, based on post-Crisis continuity.
Characters: This chapter- Timothy Drake, extensive mentions of Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne, mentions of other DCU characters; more characters in future chapters.
Rating: R. Hard R.
Warnings: This chapter, not much. Mental illness, discussion of death, general creepiness. In future chapters, expect the recreational killing of animals, murder, violence, blood, severed body parts, discussion of sexuality in minors, etc, etc; in short, AU!Timmy is not your friend.
Word Count: 1349
Summary: Tim Drake loves Dick Grayson more than anyone or anything else in the world. When Dick meets Tim, he will love Tim, too, and he will be Tim's forever.
Notes: Un-beta'd. ...Welcome to my other epic; I don't know how many chapters this will be; however many I need to contain the plot. ...So, hey, you know how little Timmy is obsessed with Dick and stalks him and Bruce and takes pictures of them like the tiny little creeper he is? In this AU I take that idea and run with it. I run a marathon. To dark, twisty, scary, bad places. If you're looking for happy, wholesome, and well-adjusted, look elsewhere. Credit to the Placebo song "I'll be Yours" for the title; this bunny was spawned by and heavily influenced by music, so expect song lyrics to pop up frequently. I will credit where appropriate.
[ Next Chapter] [ Chapter Masterlist and Notes]
* * *
My mom and dad don't love me. They're afraid of me. This used to make me sad, but not anymore. I'm okay with it. Afraid is almost as good.
Afraid keeps them away on long trips, where they don't have to see me or think about me. They come back to Gotham City once or twice a year, and when they do they ask me questions. How am I? What have I been doing with my time? Have I made any new friends? They avert their eyes when I answer and try to believe I'm telling them the truth. They don't really want to know. It's easier for them to pretend that the therapy had some effect on me, that the tiny, crumpled bodies, feathers and hair and bone, are a thing of the past. They want to avoid a scandal. They don't want to be the ones with the crazy son. So they believe my lies, and even when they're home they keep their distance.
The rest of the year , I am someone else's problem. They used to leave me with a housekeeper. There have been several. Each gave my parents a different reason for leaving. Most of them are liars. All of them left because, like my parents, they are afraid of me. (I hurt some of them.)
Now I stay at a boarding school. I've learned to pretend I'm like the others so they can't get rid of me. I like it there. There are a lot of boys at the school, too many to keep track of. It's easy for me to slip away, and nobody notices. Nobody knows. And I can do whatever I want.
Whatever I want.
~ ~ ~
Let me tell you about the two most important days of my life.
The first is one of my earliest memories. My mom and dad were still trying to love me back then. And, looking back, I think they were worried about me. I've heard them say, "Our Timothy was such a quiet child, so very shy, he didn't play well with the other children," with that pinched look around their eyes that means they're distressed.
This particular day they took me to the circus, for the first and only time. I remember at first being uncomfortable. It was crowded with strangers, noisy, smelly people.
And then I met Dick.
He was walking by with his parents; they were getting ready to perform. The Flying Graysons. My parents asked if they would take a photograph with us.
Dick was not noisy or smelly. He put his hand on my shoulder and leaned in close. He smiled at me. "Hello, Tim," he said. Tim, not Timothy, like my parents called me. Tim. "My name is Dick."
We took our photograph, our parents standing together, Dick on one knee and me pulled up tight against him with his arm around my shoulders. Dick smiled. I smiled.
I still have that photograph. It is my favorite. It is the proof of that wonderful memory. Dick was not like the other children, who avoided me on the playground and never asked me to play. Dick loved me.
"Watch me on the trapeze, Tim," Dick told me. "I'm going to do the quadruple somersault, just for you." He smiled.
On the trapeze Dick was wonderful. He flew so easily, so effortlessly. And like he promised, he did a quadruple somersault. Just for me.
Dick stood high up on the platform, smiling and waving. Then his parents flew. He watched. I watched. I saw the ropes snap. I watched them fall, and fall, and fall. I heard the noise when they stopped falling, stopped moving.
I dream about that often. And in my dreams I remember Dick up above us on the platform, alone, looking down.
(He didn't want to come down again. One of the circus-people had to climb up to get him.)
...The other most important day of my life happened when I was nine years old. My mom and dad were home for once, and so was I; they hadn't sent me to the boarding school yet. My parents were in their respective studies with their doors closed; I was doing my homework and listening to the news on television.
The newscaster said, "Gotham City's Dynamic Duo." I put my pen down and looked at the screen. The network had received exclusive footage of Batman and Robin apprehending the Penguin, caught on security tape.
It was an exciting and rare event. I watched avidly. Batman's cape flared as he dodged gunfire. Robin crouched high up on a catwalk railing. He launched himself into space, somersaulting through the air before landing on the Penguin, dropping him.
The footage continued, but I sat frozen. My world had just changed.
Robin had done a quadruple somersault. Dick Grayson was the only person in the world who could do a quadruple somersault, now that his parents were dead.
Dick was Robin.
I sat that way for a long time, beyond sight and hearing. I had thought Dick was wonderful. Now I knew how amazing he really was. The protègé, partner, and equal of Batman, the Boy Wonder, the teenaged scourge of Gotham's dark underbelly. The most amazing person in the world. Strong. Smart. Beautiful.
Perfect.
For weeks I waited for the rest of the world to have the same revelation, but it never happened. No one remembered or cared about Dick's career as a circus acrobat, only Dick Grayson the young ward of billionaire Bruce Wayne. (Bruce Wayne, the Batman.) No one else made the connection. No one else knew what I knew.
It was fate. It was fate that I should meet Dick on the day of his parents' death, on the day he met Batman. It was fate that Dick would do the quadruple somersault just for me, so that years later I would see him on the news and know him. Fate decreed that his secret would be given to me, and me alone.
I realized then that Dick and I were connected. We were meant to be together. One day we would meet, and Dick would love me again.
~ ~ ~
I have worked long and hard to better myself, to be worthy of him. I am not naturally perfect like Dick; I have had to push myself to the limit, mentally and physically. I have skipped grades; I take advanced courses and excel in every one, especially in the sciences. I have studied gymnastics, jujitsu, riflery. I have taught myself parkour, sleight of hand, lipreading, lock-picking, how to hot-wire a car. I have studied Dick and Bruce. Dick shares all his secrets with me. I know the identities of Dick's friends, Superman (Clark Kent), Batgirl (Barbara Gordon), each member of the Teen Titans and most of their mentors. I know the location of the Batcave and a few of its entrances. I know a few of the safehouses, too, places in the city Robin and Batman go to rest, to heal, to eat. I know the routes they are most likely to take across the rooftops, the vantage points they are most likely to occupy to keep their vigil over Gotham's streets and alleys. I've been following them for years, and I'm very good at it now. I have my own routes and vantage points.
I go out, not every night, but most nights. I don't always see them. Sometimes only once in two weeks or longer; sometimes twice within a few days. There is nothing in my life more important than this. I live to see the flash of red and green and gold against Gotham's shadows, or Dick's profile and billowing cape silhouetted against the underlit clouds of Gotham's sullen sky. Each sighting is like the very first time: my breath goes short, my skin goes hot; I tremble, I shudder, I ache. I burn to be closer to Dick, to hear him, smell him, touch him.
I'm almost ready. The day we will meet will be here soon, so soon. And we will be together forever.
* * *
[ Next Chapter]