If one thing could be said about Tim's apartment it was that Tim definitely lived there. The place may have been decorated by an interior designer and looked like it was birthed out of an IKEA catalog, but it most definitely was lived in by Tim Drake. There was a pile of shoes by the door, books on the table, and a surprising lack of blankets due to the man's intensely high body temperature.
All signs visible pointed to Tim Drake.
Even now as she watched him he followed the same routine she had known of him for many years, kicking off his shoes and socks in one go and laying on the couch with a sigh before finally fully acknowledging company.
But despite his engaging conversation about the architecture of the apartment that Tam would probably find fascinating, Stephanie Brown was engrossed in the room rather than the man.
It was a shrine to the Tim she had known in that it displayed all the habits that had previously disappeared, but no sign of another human being.
Either Tam lived exactly like Tim Drake or she kept her things far out of sight.
Tim rambled on as she searched for any sign of a woman in the house.
She found none.
"Mashed potatoes and ribs?"
He asked her as he turned towards the fridge, a few hours of conversation having gone by and much of her day being spent with him.
She vaguely remembered Babs mentioning something about his new diet since living with Tam but pushed it to the back of her mind. Tim was the type of person to always think of to her first, he may have dropped the diet and tried to force her to eat healthy to preserve the breathing memory of his youth.
"Corn too?" She asked hopefully.
"Of course." He rolled his eyes at her. "With butter?"
"A whole stick." She added helpfully.
"I swear to god, I'll never understand how you keep in good shape eating this stuff." He laughed, an actual laugh. It was nice to hear it out of him.
Her eyebrows scrunched.
"Stomach ache?
"Yeah," She lied, "I had takeout last night."
"Bathroom's down the hall." He responded helpfully
"Thanks."
The walk to his bathroom was interesting enough to keep her mind away from the many questions she had, on the wall were framed headlines detailing just about every major event in Gotham's recent history.
However, when she did reach the bathroom she also reached a moment of brief panic.
Blood.
Of course.
That would explain some of the crampings from last night, she reassured herself. (though a portion of it was likely due to her lack of physique for rooftop chases.)
Thank god Tam lives here.
She opened the drawer nearest her and peered around the corner to see if she could find any tampons or pads in the typical place.
None.
Her eyes scanned the whole bathroom.
Not a feminine product in sight.
She pulled open drawer after drawer, looking for anything, a lone tampon.
A woman on a business trip would leave a least a tampon, right?
Nothing.
Why was she freaking out? She knew she shouldn't be freaking out. Tim Drake was hardly a serial killer or something.
But where were the tampons?
How can a man live with his fiancée and have nary a tampon in sight? That was impossible. Was Tam some superhuman who had never menstruated? Did she have an IUD or super pills that prevented any bleeding at all?
This was not normal, Stephanie decided as she fashioned a pad out of toilet paper.
Where were the tampons? Where was the evidence of a woman? He even had bar soap.
Not artisanal bar soap.
Ivory bar soap, dollar store bar soap.
She shook her head and flushed away the doubts.
They ate in utter silence, it wasn't like him.
The food was great, though.
In a way, it reminded her of her mother's cooking every time her father went to jail, overly good to make up for the overwhelming bad.
She looked at him from across the table for a second while he was unaware, his head was downcast.
She stood up.
He cocked his head.
She moved from one end of the table to the other to sit beside him.
"Does she leave often?" She asked from her position laying on the couch, staring at the ceiling as her hand lightly grazed her stomach. In a previous life, Tim would have been doing such a thing to her, but that life had died and gone away.
"Nowadays, yes." He was telling the truth, she could hear it in his voice.
"You used to need so much attention." She replied, smiling at the ceiling. "How are you even alive right now?"
"I don't know." More truth, he sounded miserable.
Steph sat up to stare at him instead now, his face was stoic as he looked at the wall.
"Are you okay?" She asked.
"Yes." He returned back to form, smiling at her.
"Tim, Tam's not leaving for a business trip is she?" She asked, squinting at the man.
"No, she's not." He admitted.
"What's going on?" She asked him.
"It's nice to have you back." He stood as he changed topics, beginning to walk away from her.
"What's going on?" She demanded.
"Please mind your own business." He retorted, snapping back all too fast.
There it was, dick Tim Drake.
"This is my business, this is my job!"
"This isn't. I don't need some tabloid reporter—"
"I'm your friend!" She exclaimed.
"You're my ex-girlfriend." He deadpanned.
With that Stephanie Brown finally rose to her feet.
"What is going on?" She demanded again, striding towards him with angering steps.
He backed away from her, "It's none of your concern!"
"Where is all of her stuff?"
"That's none of your concern!" His voice was rising in volume, he took a step forward.
"There are no feminine supplies, there's no sign of her ever living here, you have bar soap for—"
"You don't have the right to talk about my bar soa—"
"I do!" She charged forward, shoving her finger in his chest. "What is going on?"
He stiffened his chest. "Go away, Stephanie."
"No!"
"You had no trouble leaving once, now go away again." He stepped closer, her arm was forced into her stomach and the back of her hand lay against her collarbone. "Stay out of my business for another five years."
"Make me." She glared.
"That's it." His statement was in a tone of utter anger and humiliation, he began to reach for her and without thinking, she reacted the only way she could.
She slapped him.
This was a bad idea.
In the history of slaps of Stephanie Brown, things generally worked out in her favor.
Batman accepted being slapped because man, he was kinda a dick.
Her slapping Tim with a brick ended up with her having a cool new boyfriend.
And her accidentally hitting Tim with her fist in a gentle punch slap ended up with her proving to herself that she would not fall victim to the charms of Tim Drake.
Maybe he just had some sort of weird sexual thing for being slapped, but Tim's next reaction was unexpected.
He gathered her in his arms and forced his mouth onto hers.
And for a second everything was bliss.
Until Stephanie Brown realized what was going on.
The second she realized what was going on knee connected with genitals and she was dropped on the floor as he howled in pain.
Tim dropped to his knees in front of her and she began to scream collaboratively with him.
She quickly grabbed the nearest book and held it out between the two of them as Tim began to regain his composure.
He reached a weakened hand out to her and she screamed and fended it off with 'The Art of Man'. Accidentally releasing it and causing it to slam into his face, she screamed louder and reached for the nearest available object to put between the two of them.
A cushion.
"Stephanie please, I—"
"What is wrong with you?!" She yelled at the top of her lungs, backing into the bottom of the chair with her hand cushion shield.
"I can explain!"
"Are you crazy now?!" She asked, shoving the cushion of protection in front of her face. "Did you kill her?!"
"I did not kill her." He deadpanned.
"Where is she?!"
"I don't really know yet!" He attempted to reach for one of her wrists.
"You're engaged!" She smacked his hand away.
"I don't technically know about that right now!" He admitted. "I am sorry about that, though, I can explain, or try to—"
"Does being hit sexually excite you?!" She was uncomfortable now, the most uncomfortable she had ever been in her life.
"Ok, no, I—"
"Is it the harder the better, is that what happened with the brick, oh god—"
"Steph."
"Don't Steph me." She was beginning to calm down, her breath was even once more.
"Let's just sit." He suggested, slowly getting up but keeping both of his hands in the air like a man caught by the police.
He sat down on his loveseat couch, she watched him tentatively and eventually moved up to sit on the chair.
"Okay, so here is the full story, no lies or anything." He began, having had to stall the story slightly. He had grabbed the top sheet for Stephanie, placing it on the ground in front of her and sitting back in his seat to watch her tentatively pick it up and wrap it around herself.
"No lies?" She asked. "How do you think I'll believe that?"
He gave her a look of earnestly.
She figured someone must tell the truth if they look so desperate.
"Tam left." He admitted.
He was obviously expecting a bigger reaction than Stephanie's slow nod.
"It's not you being here, it's not any of that. We'd talked about it before and came to the conclusion it might be best for her to go to New York for a while and just… The two of us be separated before the wedding. To make sure this is what she wants-"
"Why?" Stephanie squinted, not fully comprehending.
"I'm asking a lot and she's not quite willing to give-"
"What are you asking?"
He more through her than at her, "You know what I'm asking."
"Kinky slapping sex?" She did not know what he was asking.
He snorted, "No."
"You seem really into slapping."
"I'm not into slapping." He insisted.
She tightened the sheet around her instead of responding.
He wished for a moment he had bought actual blankets instead of insisting they were unnecessary.
"I'm asking her to marry the idea of my superhero status as well."
Stephanie cocked her head.
"It's a lot for someone to take in and actually think about Stephanie," He elaborated. "It's different when they're a civilian. They aren't used to the idea of waiting at home not knowing if you're coming home—"
"Like my mother." Stephanie interrupted. "It was hard for her."
"Kind of. Tam doesn't want that, it's too much." He shrugged. "I asked her to take some time to think about it. She feels like she didn't think it through well, the acception of the engagement."
"So she's breaking up with you." Stephanie supplied.
"She might come back. I'm not calling it off."
For all his practicalities this struck Stephanie as odd. "Why? You're never one to wait on uncertainties."
"Being completely honest?" His eyebrow raised slightly, "It keeps you here, it gives people hope, and I really want to prove that people like us do get a happy ending."
"Like you." She corrected. "Why is it so important that I'm here?"
"You never told anyone you were leaving." He said it simply enough.
"Why kiss me?" She changed the topic.
"It doesn't mean anything," he replied quickly, "Heat of the moment."