ATLAS: HEART, tim drake

and just let our walls cave in

Obviously, with your newfound happiness, the universe decides to throw a wrench in your plans.

Your plans with Tim, specifically, as in the ones for your date.

Everything is fine, initially. Despite being a self-proclaimed night owl, Tim has surprised you multiple times this week by letting himself in at a quarter till seven and making you coffee and a quick breakfast and packing you a lunch while you get up and get dressed. Of course, he will then head straight back to his apartment and go back to sleep for several hours and he gets more than a few kisses out of it, so, it's not a particularly arduous task, you don't think.

And it is, of course, a deeply pleasant thing for you because you would never say no to seeing him in the mornings before work. Especially not with how you step out of the bathroom, finished getting dressed, and there he is, dozing at the little table in your kitchen, only lifting his head when you near and you can never stop yourself from running your fingers through his hair, his arms sliding around your waist as he nuzzles his face into your belly and mumbles, "Morning, gorgeous," voice still raspy with sleep and it takes everything in you not to melt into a puddle right then and there.

It calls forth some admittedly indulgent visions for the future, a future you are starting to find you desperately want. One where you can share a bed with him, where, honestly, you would be happy just being able to wake up and find him there. He doesn't even need to wake up or do anything — he would simply be there. Then being able to come back home to him after a long day... It's the kind of future that makes you ache with the desire for it.

But these things take time. You know that. And you're already privileged enough that you live in the same building. It's only a couple minutes from his place to yours. Things would be a whole lot tougher if he was in, you don't know, Coventry.

(Of course, the proximity is the thing that trips you up, the fact that he is close and you can only dream of more.)

Anyway, like you were saying, the first part of your day is fine. The school day, that is. Ms. C just slaps on a G-rated movie for each of the periods. Half the other teachers do the same. You aren't technically allowed to do this, since showing movies to the kids can be a finicky ordeal with parents and no one, certainly not the school board, wants to be held liable, but you don't envision that it will come back to bite you in the ass. It's the last day of school, after all.

And with that, it is a tiny bit emotional, at least for you. But the kids promise to visit. You don't know if that'll actually pan out but it's a sweet thought that tides you over for the rest of the day.

Your date with Tim is set for six-thirty. Dinner first, then a trip to... somewhere. He hasn't told you. It's a surprise.

Before that, you need to hang around after school to help Ms. C pack up the classroom for the summer. After, you feel a little tired from the day's event, so before you set off for Rose Oaks, you decide it won't hurt to run over to the Sundollar a block over to grab a quick drink, something to tide you over until dinner.

Ms. C heads out first and you leave your things in the classroom, deciding just to make the walk. So, you step out with a couple dollars in the pocket of your jeans, as well, of course, with your pepper spray. Dearly beloved, you do not go anywhere without it. You've taken a few self-defense course (and Tim's tested those skills with his own lessons he's taken; that was fun, even if you did kind of get your ass kicked) and it's not like you think you could stand a chance against, you don't know, Darkseid but, like, you have a decent shot against your run-of-the-mill douchebag, right?

Wrong.

And you know that when you get hit on the back of the head, crumple miserably, and before you can gather your wits to even think of putting up a fight, you feel the sharp prick of a needle and you're out.