Chapter Text
The Gotham Gazette ran a front-page feature titled: “Wayne Heir vs. Vigilante: The Feud That’s Captivating Gotham” with a giant, dramatic photo of Red Robin glaring at the fast-food joint and a smaller image of Tim Drake-Wayne flipping off the paparazzi.
Bruce, predictably, was not amused.
In the Batcave, Bruce stood with his arms crossed, looming like a storm cloud as the article glowed on the massive computer screen behind him.
“You’ve made a spectacle of yourself,” he said, his voice measured but firm. “Again.”
Tim, sitting on one of the chairs with his legs casually draped over the side, sipped his coffee with absolutely zero remorse. “The people love a good scandal.”
“This isn’t a scandal. It’s a circus,” Bruce snapped. “And you’re the ringleader.”
Jason, who was leaning against the Batmobile, snorted. “Come on, B. Let the kid have some fun. Gotham’s been boring lately.”
Bruce shot him a withering glare, but Jason remained unfazed. If anything, he looked even more amused.
Dick, ever the peacemaker, tried to steer the conversation back on track. “Okay, but seriously, Tim. What’s the endgame here? You can’t keep up this feud forever.”
Tim set his coffee down and grinned. “Can’t I?”
“No,” Bruce said firmly. “Because now Wayne Enterprises is fielding calls from shareholders worried that our heir is publicly feuding with a vigilante. Not to mention the merchandising companies trying to get licensing rights to your feud.”
“They want to make merch?” Jason perked up. “Oh, that’s hilarious. We should totally get a cut.”
“No, we shouldn’t,” Bruce growled. “We need to shut this down.”
Before anyone could respond, the Batcomputer pinged with a new alert.
Barbara’s face popped up on the screen, looking far too entertained for someone who was supposed to be the responsible one. “Hey, Bruce. You might want to see this.”
She pulled up a live news feed from Gotham Tonight.
The reporter’s voice was smug, clearly relishing the chaos. “Breaking news! A new development in the ongoing feud between Tim Drake-Wayne and Red Robin. Just moments ago, Red Robin himself appeared at a charity gala hosted by Wayne Enterprises—and things got heated.”
The screen cut to footage from the gala. Red Robin stood on the steps of the venue, clearly out of place among the tuxedo-clad guests. Tim, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, was standing just a few feet away, arms crossed, glaring at his vigilante counterpart.
The tension in the air was palpable.
“Nice suit,” Red Robin quipped, his voice carrying just enough sarcasm to set Tim off.
“Nice dumpster,” Tim shot back, his smile sharp and cold. “You still hanging out in them, or did you finally upgrade to an alleyway?”
The crowd around them gasped, and phones immediately went up to capture the moment.
Red Robin took a slow step forward, tilting his head like a bird of prey. “You know, for someone who got kidnapped, you sure don’t seem very grateful.”
“Oh, I’m *so* grateful,” Tim sneered. “Grateful that you dumped me in trash.”
“It was clean!” Red Robin insisted.
---
Back in the Batcave, Bruce groaned audibly.
“Please tell me this is staged,” he said, rubbing his temples.
Tim grinned at the screen. “Maybe.”
“Tim.”
“Okay, fine, it’s staged,” Tim admitted. “But Gotham loves it. Social media engagement is through the roof. We’re trending globally. This is all good PR.”
“For who?” Bruce asked, exasperated.
“Me,” Tim said with a cheeky smile. “And Red Robin.”
Jason burst out laughing. “Kid’s got a point.”
Dick sighed. “You realize that you’re going to have to keep this up now, right? People will expect more drama.”
Tim shrugged, unconcerned. “Let them. I’ve got plenty more material.”
Barbara chimed in again from the Batcomputer. “By the way, Tim, you’ve officially hit celebrity status. Someone just posted fanfiction about you and Red Robin on Archive of Our Own.”
Tim’s eyes widened in horror. “What?!”
Jason doubled over in laughter. “Oh my god, send me the link.”
“No!” Tim protested. “Absolutely not!”
“Too late,” Barbara said, her smirk audible through the comms. “I already sent it to the group chat.”
A moment later, everyone’s phones buzzed.
Jason’s cackling echoed through the cave as he read the fic’s title aloud. “‘Enemies to Lovers: The Tim/Red Robin Saga.’ Oh, this is gold.”
Tim groaned and buried his face in his hands. “I hate all of you.”
Bruce sighed. “I need a drink.”
Dick patted him on the shoulder. “Welcome to the chaos, Bruce. You raised him.”
Bruce muttered something under his breath about regretting every life choice he’d ever made.
---
The fanfiction spread through Gotham like wildfire, sparking a whole new wave of memes and conspiracy theories. People debated whether Tim Drake-Wayne and Red Robin were secretly in love. Fans picked sides: #EnemiesToLovers vs. #BrothersInArms.
By the end of the week, someone had even started selling T-shirts that read “Just Kiss Already” with stylized art of Tim and Red Robin glaring at each other.
Naturally, Jason bought one.
And wore it proudly.
At family dinner.
Tim nearly choked on his pasta when he saw it.
“Jason.”
“Yeah?”
Tim gestured at the shirt. “What the fuck is that?”
Jason smirked. “It’s fashion, baby.”
Tim lunged for him, and chaos erupted at the Wayne Manor dining table.
Alfred, calmly sipping his tea, didn’t bat an eye. “Another typical evening.”
Bruce, pinching the bridge of his nose again, sighed. “I really, really need that drink.”