Tim Drake oneshots

Title: Not Yet…

The grand ballroom was filled with Gotham's elite, all dressed to the nines, sipping champagne, and exchanging polite small talk. Among them were Janet and Jack Drake, mingling with other socialites, their newborn son safely in tow—until he wasn’t.

Janet, scanning the room, suddenly frowned. “Jack, honey, where’s the baby?”

Jack blinked, momentarily confused before smiling casually. “Oh, Bruce Wayne asked to hold him. I figured he’d be safe with Bruce.”

Janet’s eyes widened. “Bruce Wayne? The man who collects orphans like they’re baseball cards?”

Jack waved off her concern, too busy recounting some dull business story to fully register the panic in his wife’s voice. Meanwhile, outside the gala, a very different scene was unfolding.

Bruce, still wearing his immaculate tuxedo, was sprinting across the parking lot, a swaddled baby Tim Drake in his arms. He reached the waiting black sedan, slightly out of breath, and opened the back door.

“Alfred, start the car!” Bruce demanded, looking behind him as though someone might be following.

Alfred, ever the composed gentleman, raised an eyebrow as he sat behind the wheel. “Master Bruce, is there a problem? And why, if I may ask, do you have the Drake child?”

Bruce adjusted his grip on baby Tim, who was giggling softly, oblivious to the chaos. “Don’t worry about it. Just—just get us out of here.”

Alfred’s brow furrowed as he took in the situation. “Sir, I don’t believe the Drakes would appreciate you abducting their child.”

Bruce, still glancing over his shoulder, muttered, “But he’s perfect, Alfred. He’s got potential. I can already tell.”

“Potential?” Alfred said, incredulous. “Sir, this is highly inappropriate.”

Bruce was quiet for a beat, staring down at the baby in his arms, and then, under his breath, he mumbled, “Not yet…”

Alfred’s eyes widened, a rare moment of shock crossing his usually stoic face. “SIR—”

Bruce sighed, reluctantly turning toward the gala entrance where Janet and Jack Drake were likely still blissfully unaware that their child had been moments away from joining the ranks of Gotham’s most famous orphans.

Alfred shook his head as he turned off the engine. “Please, return Master Timothy before this becomes a scandal. The child is not an orphan.”

Bruce, grumbling, gently handed baby Tim back to Alfred. “Fine, fine. But you know he’s got the makings of a future vigilante, right? I’m just saying.”

Alfred smirked as he took the baby. “Perhaps, sir. But let’s leave that decision to young Master Timothy, shall we? Now, please, let’s return him before the Drakes notice their missing child and file a police report.”

With a heavy sigh and one last glance at baby Tim, Bruce nodded. “Yeah, alright.”

As they walked back into the gala, Tim still giggling in Alfred’s arms, Bruce couldn’t help but smirk to himself. “Give it time. Gotham has a way of making orphans.”

Alfred shot him a stern look. “Let us hope it does not come to that, sir.”

They slipped back into the party, unnoticed, and handed baby Tim back to his oblivious parents. Bruce gave Janet and Jack a curt nod, his mind already spinning with plans for the future—just in case.